LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Writ* ~ 

J 77 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 



WILDERNESS 



CURE. 



/ 





MAEC 


COOK, 




AUTHOR OF ' 


"CAMP LOU." 


1° 






%*■ 








NEW YOEK: 
WILLIAM WOOD & COMPANY, 

1881. 



7r 



Copyright by 

WILLIAM WOOD & COMPANY, 

1881. 



Trow's 

Printing and Bookbinding Company, 

20X-213 East x-zth Street, 

NEW YORK. 



©0 

DR. WILLIAM H. WATSON 

( Surgeon- General, and Regent of the University of the State of New York), 

WITHOUT WHOM 

THE WRITER WOULD NOT NOW BE, 

NOR THIS LITTLE VOLUME EVER HAVE BEEN, 

Hfotst Pag** a« (KrattfuIIs Inmifab* 



NOTE. 

The publication of the article " Camp Lou," in 
Harper's Magazine for May, 1881, has called forth 
such a flood of inquiries that the author finds it quite 
beyond his powers to make individual reply to each. 
Precisely those minor details which could not well 
be embodied in a magazine paper have been most 
sought after by correspondents. This little volume, 
it is believed, contains the information desired. And 
it is given to the public in the hope that it will be 
accepted as a general response to the numerous let- 
ters which the writer has received on the subject of 
the Wilderness Cure. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Young Man's Case, 



CHAPTER II. 
The Wilderness and the Experiment, 

CHAPTER III. 

Some Delusions Dispelled, . 

CHAPTER IV. 

Preparations for an Invalid's Camp, 

CHAPTER V. 
Making a Camp Attractive, 



CHAPTER VI. 
Camp Life as an Invalid Finds It, . 

CHAPTER VII. 

Wintering in the Wilderness, . 



CHAPTER VIII. 
The Year-Round Inhabitants, 

CHAPTER IX. 
Dr. Loomis on the St. Regis Country, 

CHAPTER X. 
The Cost of the Thing, . . , 
Appendix, 



18 



28 



37 



48 



58 



71 



96 



136 
149 



THE WILDERNESS CURE. 



CHAPTEK I. 



THE YOUNG MANS CASE. 



Late in the autumn of 1877, a young man at work 
in a newspaper office in New York City found him- 
self the possessor of an inconsequential cough. It 
came to him unsolicited, and, so far as he could dis- 
cover, without sufficient — certainly without specific 
cause. Up to that time he had enjoyed fairly good 
health. He had stood the strain of a reporter's life 
and boarding-house fare, and while pretty steadily 
disregarding the precepts of the doctors, he was 
never obliged to call upon them for prescriptions. 
It was not until he had found more congenial employ- 
ment in the office of a weekly journal — not until he 
had sown his few wild oats, married, and settled down 
to the cultivation of tame oats, that the medical men 
got their grip upon him. 

The inconsequential cough was scarcely noticed at 
first. It caused its owner neither inconvenience nor 
1* 



10 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

anxiety. In the consciousness of never having in- 
herited anything, there was the comforting convic- 
tion that he could not have inherited consumptive 
tendencies. From no branch or root or twig of his 
genealogic tree was it possible to draw the wasting 
sap of phthisis. Still the cough, coming thus with 
no claim to kinship, stuck closer than a brother. At 
the end of a month or so, a physician prescribed 
some simple remedies. They were taken with no 
apparent effect. Another month went by. The ' 
cough had grown a trifle tiresome, but was still re- 
garded as a small matter by its involuntary owner. 
It continued to be the only perceptible symptom of 
anything wrong. The young man lost neither flesh 
nor strength — at least, not to an appreciable degree. 
He went to the office, performed his usual duties 
without special effort, and was able to eat and sleep 
regularly. But he kept on coughing. 

By the time the third month had been rounded 
the cougher had consulted other physicians, had taken 
three or four bottles of cod-liver oil, a gallon or two 
of rye whiskey with rock candy, and an amazing 
amount of good advice. The doctors found nothing 
very serious, they said, in the case. Perhaps a pre- 
disposition to pulmonary weakness — that was all. 
Exposure to the weather should be avoided, and pos- 
sibly the climate of Florida or Nassau might prove 
of benefit. But there was no immediate necessity 
for leaving the city, and nourishing food, rest, and 
regularity of life would be pretty sure to overcome 
the trouble. So, still coughing, yet still free from 



THE YOUNG MAN'S CASE. 11 

anxiety regarding himself, the young man continued 
at his desk. 

In March, 1878, some unpleasant accompaniments 
to the cough began to show themselves. "Work be- 
came more exhausting, and a walk of a mile produced 
a strong desire for rest. The young man gave up 
the habit of mounting stairs two steps at a time. 
Tenderloin steak lost its old-time flavor, and indeed 
all eating became somewhat of a task. The pulse 
often rose to the nineties, and at times a slight fever 
manifested itself. Night-sweats were also developed, 
although in a mild form. All this time cod-liver 
oil, whiskey, and a diet of special nutritive qualities 
were continued perseveringly. And so was the 
cough. 

On the first of April came the sharp warning which 
less alarming symptoms had failed to convey. On 
the evening of that day, after an especially laborious 
siege of it in the office, the cougher was attacked 
with hemorrhage of the lungs just as he stepped 
from the Fulton ferry-house. He raised, perhaps, 
half a teacup of blood. He had an idea, at the 
time, that it was a quart. This hemorrhage brought 
relief so far as the cough was concerned, but it 
brought also a tardy realization of the clanger that 
threatened. The flow of blood was stopped by the 
use of common table-salt, and although the first at- 
tack was followed by a number of others, more or 
less severe, no other remedy was used. A day or 
two later, the young man locked his office desk and 
set forth in search of that unpurchasable luxury- — 



12 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

health. He went first to his father's home in the 
central part of New York State. There he re- 
mained about two months, and then, in conformity 
with the advice of his physician, Dr. William H. 
Watson, the present Surgeon-General of New York 
State, he journeyed to the White Mountains, New 
Hampshire. The period between his departure from 
New York and this mountain trip was marked by 
some noteworthy peculiarities of his case. At first, 
after his arrival at his father's house, he lost ground 
at a discouraging rate. It was fully two weeks be- 
fore the hemorrhages were completely stopped. 
Meantime, his strength failed rapidly, the cough be- 
came extremely vicious, and the nights were made mis- 
erable through copious sweats, burning fever, and ina- 
bility to sleep. In good time, however, matters began 
to mend. Under the treatment of his physician the 
patient regained his appetite, found the cough grow- 
ing by degrees less troublesome, was able to sleep 
restf ully at night, and was entirely relieved from that 
sense of nervous prostration which is not uncommon 
in cases of hemorrhage. 

So rapid was his gain, that in June the young man 
had reason to believe that he should speedily be rid 
of the cough which now again was the only reminder 
of disease. On his way to the mountains he spent 
a few days in Boston, and there submitted himself 
to a thorough examination at the hands of Dr. Gr. 
Hermann Merkel. The result of this examination 
showed that the lower part of the left lung was 
slightly consolidated, while the upper part of the 



THE YOUNG MAn's CASE. 13 

right lung gave some faint indication of catarrhal 
difficulty. Neither lung was in anything like a 
seriously diseased condition. Indeed, a less practised 
ear than the doctor's might have failed to detect any- 
thing wrong in the delicate tissues. Journeying on 
to North Conway, the health-seeker spent the re- 
mainder of the summer, where, from his window, 
he could see the giant front of Mount Washington. 
In the dry, bracing atmosphere of that region, where 
the sandy soil sucks up the moisture, and no foul 
odors pollute the air, he gained steadily. It was not 
easy, either for himself or others, to regard him as 
an invalid in those days. He led no life of piazza 
indolence. He turned off his allotted portion of 
work every day, and wrote with unusual ease and 
freedom. A three-mile jaunt did not tire him. He- 
freshing nights of sleep, and a regular appetite 
brought increased strength and added materially to 
his weight. And yet, through this cheering period, 
never, for a day, did the cough loosen its hold. At 
times, to be sure, it grew mild, and gave its victim 
long hours of respite ; but all the same it was there. 
There to irritate, to watch its chance, and in the end 
to break forth again with renewed viciousness. In 
September the young man believed himself so far re- 
stored to health as to justify his return to New York. 
He turned the scales then at 158 pounds, a gain of 
twenty pounds over his weight in April. He felt in 
all respects as well, physically and mentally, as ever. 
His capacity for work and beefsteak was at its max- 
imum. The physicians interposed no obj ections to his 



14 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

return to office work. So he made his way back to 
New York in the cheering belief that he had done 
with cod-liver oil, quinine, and doctors' prescriptions. 
But he took with him the cough. 

In the next three months he attended regularly to 
his duties, and did his best to shut out the too palpa- 
ble truth that he was losing ground daily. At last, 
however, the sharp warning was a second time 
sounded. On the first of January, 1879, he was 
taken down with severe hemorrhages. For the two 
weeks following he was forced to keep his bed. All 
the bad symptoms came back — nervous prostration, 
weakness, loss of appetite, fever, debilitating sweats. 
It was with the dawn of the new year that Dr. Ed- 
ward W. Vietor, of Brooklyn, took charge of the 
case. He gave the patient large hope of recovery, 
and devoted himself faithfully to the work of bat- 
tling the insidious enemy. It will ever remain the 
conviction of the patient that without Dr. Yietor's 
skilful treatment and the untiring care of a devoted 
wife, his life would have ended at that time. As it 
was, hope's thermometer rose and fell alternately for 
many days. February found the young man seem- 
ingly on the straight road to recovery. And, indeed, 
for a period of two months or more, he was well 
enough to work daily, although not going to the office 
— well enough to enjoy his meals, to find comfort in 
books' companionship, and, in fair weather, in leisure- 
ly strolls about town. But through some slight over- 
exertion, added, perhaps, to indiscreet exposure, this 
cheering condition of things was brought to a sudden 



THE YOUNG MAN'S CASE. 15 

end. Toward the latter part of March a congestive 
chill was followed by something unpleasantly like 
pneumonia. Then for a month the patient ran down 
at an alarming rate. His physician saw the old foe 
gaining inch by inch, and foot by foot, until he felt 
the necessity for an immediate change of ground. The 
first thing was to get away from New York ; the 
second was to get into the Adirondack wilderness. 
So weak, that he could with difficulty make the jour- 
ney, the patient set out once more in the search for 
health — this time with very small hopes of finding 
what he sought. He spent a month at his father's 
home, hoping thereby to pick up a little strength for 
what, in his condition, seemed a laborious undertak- 
ing. Instead, however, of gaining, he grew steadily 
weaker. Dr. "VVatson, who renewed his interest in 
the case, joined heartily in the project of visiting the 
Adirondacks. He very plainly told the friends of 
the young man that this was the one chance left — 
that if it failed. the long fight would be over. En- 
thusiastic as the doctor was over the Adirondack trip, 
he could not conscientiously hold out much hope in 
the present case. He made the fact emphatic, how- 
ever, that the patient would die, and die speedily, if 
he remained where he was. Should he live to reach 
the St. Regis country, there was a chance — shadowy, 
no doubt, but still a chance — of recovery. Had the 
question been left for the young man himself to de- 
cide, the experiment would probably have remained 
untried. For it is to be confessed, that at this time 
(the early part of June, 1879), he had loosened his 



16 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

hold on hope and prepared himself, with what of 
philosophic calmness he could muster, for the coming 
of the end. Through many weary months he had 
held steadfast to the belief that he should find ulti- 
mate relief from his ailment ; but now that belief 
gave place to one equally deep-seated, that death 
would claim its own. Cheering words from those 
nearest and dearest to him, even the blessed false- 
hoods which it is the physician's duty as well as privi- 
lege sometimes to utter, neither comforted nor de- 
ceived him. He needed no physician to tell him that 
he was sinking rapidly. And surely, with days made 
weary by the racking cough, with no appetite for 
food, with alternate fits of burning fever and chilling 
cold, with utter prostration of the nerve-force, with 
nights devoid of rest, the body drenched in perspira- 
tion, and the cough still racking the tired lungs^ - 
with all these things, it is not to be wondered at that 
hope went out, and the fight seemed altogether an 
uneven and vain contest. 

Still the wiser opinion of others prevailed, and on 
the sixth of June the patient started for the wilder- 
ness. Plattsburg was reached that evening, and the 
night spent at a hotel. At an early hour the next 
morning the journey was resumed — twenty miles of 
it over a backwoods railway, and forty by stage over 
a backwoods highway. Only by means of alcoholic 
stimulants, freely taken, could the patient have made 
this trip. As it was, when he stepped from the stage 
at " Paul" Smith's, his wasted body and bloodless face 
afforded reason enough for the sturdy guides to shake 



THE YOUNG MAN'S CASE. 17 

their heads ominously over this doubtful specimen of 
a " sportsman." 

That was the seventh of June. This is the middle 
of December. And the young man ? Well, he lays 
down his pen to-day to go out for a seven-miles ride 
over the glistening snow. The thermometer is close 
to zero. The air is crisp and cold. It might freeze 
your dainty city ears, but it is nothing to the hardy 
backwoodsman. Nothing to the young man. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE WILDERNESS AND THE EXPERIMENT. 

Distasteful as it is to parade one's bodily infirmi- 
ties before the world, such a course seems to be the 
only one to follow in a narrative like this. Indeed, 
my little volume would surely fail of its purpose if 
it did not have a personal story to tell. If this story 
should seem largely egotistical that is to be counted 
the misfortune, not the vanity of the teller. 

The description of my own case given in the pre- 
ceding chapter, however untechnical, is at least un- 
exaggerated. As it stands, it applies specifically to 
one victim; but with little alteration, no doubt, it 
would cover thousands of other cases. It has not 
been my object to make my condition worse than it 
was, nor shall it be my aim to color too rosily the 
curative virtues of the wilderness. The young man 
who, in June, found it no easy task to walk the length 
of the hotel piazza, in December could turn off a 
mile over snow-covered roads without exhausting his 
strength. But he is still far from robust health. The 
experiment has proved successful beyond the most 
hopeful anticipation, but it is to be remembered 
that it is an experiment still under trial. The man 



THE WILDERNESS AND THE EXPERIMENT. 19 

who has been afflicted with disease of twenty years' 
standing, and given np by the doctors, and who, af- 
ter using six bottles of Dr. Lumbo's Liniment is, 
forthwith, able to lift a seven-octave piano, is not the 
writer of this book. Probably all of us who are 
doomed to long familiarity with pills and powders, 
have, in one shape or another, been informed of the 
merits of innumerable Dr. Lumbos, each with his 
infallible liniment. I regret to say, however, that 
personally I have never found that distinguished 
gentleman in the flesh, nor a drop of his liniment in 
the bottle. I did not find them when I came up here 
into the woods. Yet I heard of them — of a dozen 
of them — before I had got fairly settled in my room. 

"D'yer want to know what '11 cure that there 
cough of yonr'n ? " inquired a solicitous backwoods- 
man, before I had been three hours in the wilderness. 

"Yes, it would afford me infinite satisfaction to 
learn what would cure that cough." 

"Cherry-bark and balsam," was the impressive 
answer. " Nothin' like it in the world ! Why, land 
o' the livin' there was a young feller come up here 
three years ago — " 

But I spare you the proof of cherry-bark and bal- 
sam's magic properties, as illustrated in the case of 
that "young feller." His case is painfully familiar. 
Sometimes it is cherry-bark and balsam, sometimes 
it is buttermilk, sometimes it is dandelion tea — but 
whatever the remedy, the result is invariably the 
same. If any of my consumptive readers are emu- 
lous of the fame of Dr. Lumbo's patients, they will 



20 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

not come to the Adirondacks. I am persuaded, how- 
ever, that there are in this country to-day ten thou- 
sand persons who, fighting the weary fight for health, 
would find cause enough for thanksgiving if they 
could penetrate this vast wilderness and breathe in 
the life-giving air day and night the year round. If 
it brought them that measure of strength which it has 
brought the writer, surely they, like him, would deem 
it a duty to write a recommendation of the medicine 
as sincere, if not as remarkable, as any ever given to 
Doctor Lumbo's Liniment. 

The two weeks and more which we spent at " Paul " 
Smith's before getting into camp were wretched in 
the extreme. Nothing could have been worse than 
the weather. It rained almost incessantly the greater 
part of the time, and when not raining, it might 
with perfect consistency have snowed. The ther- 
mometer, on two or three occasions, sank below forty, 
and throughout it showed no- more disposition to 
rise than the guides did when once seated about the 
office fire. Even the few enthusiastic anglers who 
had come in for the June fishing needed the warm 
glow of ardent zeal to keep them at their honored 
pursuit. As for a weak and shivering invalid, he 
could only move listlessly about his room, or hug the 
fire tenaciously in the parlor. If anything, I found 
myself worse during this fortnight than I had been 
at any time before. The nights especially became 
periods of almost continuous suffering: So hard and 
constant was the cough, that sleep, except the restless 
and troubled dozing produced by opiates, was out of 



THE WILDERNESS AND THE EXPERIMENT. 21 

the question. The expectoration was copious, gen- 
erally of a greenish tint, and so solid that it sank 
like a stone in water. Then the drenching sweats, 
alternated with burning fever and occasional chills, 
made up a list of more ills than any flesh should at 
one and the same time fall heir to. We found kind 
friends at the hotel, and the sympathetic interest 
manifested in my case by " Paul " Smith and his es- 
timable wife surprised me more then than it does 
now, when I have come to know them better. Dr. 
Trudeau, whose own case is referred to elsewhere in 
this book, freely gave his professional services in my 
behalf, and I was fortunate, also, in coming under 
the care of the late Dr. Bronson, of New Haven. All 
that medical skill and constant care and tender nurs- 
ing could do was done for me at that critical time. 
If it did not surprise others, it did me, that I pulled 
through. 

It had been a part of the wilderness plan, and a 
very important part in our preliminary arrangements, 
to go into camp at the earliest moment practicable. 
For myself, I had a very confused idea of what 
" camping out " meant. The plan was vaguely sug- 
gestive of salt pork, rubber blankets, a bed of hemlock 
boughs, and much physical discomfort, which is per- 
versely declared to be fun. However, the camp was 
indispensable to a fair trial of the Adirondack ex- 
periment, and so our preparations were made with as 
much haste as possible. 

In the matter of selecting a camping ground we 
were peculiarly fortunate. The spot was a bluff on 



22 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

Osgood Pond, rising thirty feet above the level o£ 
the water, and stretching like a peninsula into the 
pond. Pines, spruces, and the aspen poplar, known in 
the vernacular of the region as the "popple," abound- 
ed. The pond itself stretched about this neck of land 
so as to form a little bay, toward which the land ex- 
tended in a gentle declivity. We thus had a breeze 
blowing across the water in front to the water in the 
back — a very important consideration in keeping clear 
of insect pests. The spot had never before been used 
for camping purposes, and that also was to be counted 
in its favor. For custom gives the first settler a sort 
of right of claim on Adirondack ground. 

Our preliminary preparations were not elaborate, 
and were left necessarily for the most part to the 
guides employed to build the camp. We moved into 
our primitive quarters on the 21st of June. We 
found awaiting us two bark buildings and a canvas 
tent, built in a line along the bluff, and facing the 
picturesque little lake which nestles among the pine- 
covered hills. Osgood is the first of the ponds lying 
north of the Lower St. Pegis, and is reached by a 
three-fourths of a mile carry. To get to our camp, 
another three-fourths of a mile had to be travelled 
by boat ; or the entire distance could be covered by 
land, reckoned at about a mile and a half to the 
hotel. It cannot be said that Camp Lou, as we after- 
ward called it, presented a very attractive appear- 
ance on that first Saturday afternoon. To be sure 
the scene about us was beautiful in the extreme ; but 
scenery was something which could not inspire us 



THE WILDEKNESS AND THE EXPERIMENT. 23 

much just then. As I have explained, our fortnight's 
sojourn at the hotel had not in any way benefited 
me. When I reached the camp, the walk up the 
gradual slope from the boat-landing to the tent was 
enough to exhaust my strength. Despite the phy- 
sicians' assurances, I looked with suspicion on the 
canvas tent, and very seriously doubted whether it 
would afford protection against the rain and wind. 
Timely advice had prevented us from putting our 
faith in hemlock boughs, and we had a comfortable 
bed, with mattress, pillows, and the other appurten- 
ances of civilized sleeping. But we slept very little 
that first night. The weather was warm and mugny, 
with an unmistakable hint of rain in the lowering 
sky. After an unrelished supper, we sat down dis- 
consolately in the bark cabin and reflected that if 
this was the invigorating manner of life destined to 
restore health and strength, it was at least a question- 
able kind of invigoration. The one tallow candle 
burned dimly, and was finally extinguished altogether 
to keep away the midges— which, if you want to be 
understood here, you must call midgets. Our guides 
made a sorry attempt at enlivening the occasion by 
some reminiscenses of their backwoods life. Then, 
finally, clinging stubbornly to my own belief about 
the insecurity of the tent, and finding that a drizzling 
rain had already set in, I insisted upon having the 
bed made up in the cabin. This suited the midges 
exactly, and in the brief intervals of the night when 
the cough did not keep me awake, the persistent lit- 
tle insects did. 



24 THE WILDERNESS CITEE. 

We arose on the following morning to find the 
sky a mass of leaden clouds, and a penetrating rain 
still falling. With the conveniences at our disposal 
we made a rough and ready toilet and ate with doubt- 
ful appetite the breakfast which the guides had pro- 
vided. Then wrapping ourselves in rubber coats, we 
sat down in the tent, more discouraged and more 
wretched even than on the night before. It was a 
long, dull, miserable day, brightened only for an 
hour by a visit from two of our hotel friends, whose 
goodness of heart prompted them to brave the abom- 
inable weather and seek us out to make sure that we 
still lived. That night we took to the tent, our for- 
mer experience having satisfied me that the bark 
cabin was not a place for sleeping. And here came 
the first convincing proof of the benefit I was to 
derive from camp life. I found the tent as condu- 
cive of sleep as the cabin had been antagonistic to 
its enjoyment. To those accustomed all their lives 
to the stifling atmosphere of the ordinary chamber, 
it would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of 
the delicious purity of the air as inhaled under can- 
vas. Always as fresh as if out of doors, the tent 
still shields the sleeper from the wind, and makes a 
draught, that everlasting promoter of colds, an im- 
possibility. From that first night I became an en- 
thusiast over canvas coverings. Xor were my fore- 
bodings with regard to the leaking of the tent in a 
single instance verified. Throughout all the four 
months and a half which we spent in camp, not once 
did the rain penetrate the tent. And this was due to 



THE WILDERNESS. AND THE EXPERIMENT. 25 

no lack of test, for we had days when the drenching 
storms were enough to put the best shingled house to 
a severe trial. Moreover, our tent was neither new 
nor exceptionally secure. It was purchased at second- 
hand of a guide, and had done service for two or 
three years. The " fly " which protected it was made 
of ordinary cotton cloth and afterward immersed in 
linseed-oil. 

For the first four weeks of camp life the only per- 
ceptible improvement in my condition was in the 
matter of sleep. Although still troubled at intervals 
by the cough, and by no means exempt from the 
sweats, still as a whole the nights brought a measure 
of rest which I had not known for many weeks. I 
had hoped to find a keener appetite for food in this 
out-door life, and some abatement of the cough. I 
cannot say that I expected these results, but the faith 
of others was so great that it gave me at least hope. 
But no such cheering symptoms manifested them- 
selves. The cough — except, as I have already ex- 
plained, during the night — remained as vicious as 
before. The fever became more constant, and that 
in the face of large doses of quinine recommended 
by the doctors. Instead of gaining, my appetite grew 
less and less, until most of the nourishment taken was 
in the form of beef-tea, milk, and raw eggs. Oc- 
casionally the sputa was colored with blood, and I 
was continually apprehensive of hemorrhage. With- 
out energy enough even to find solace in reading, I 
passed the days listlessly in a chair, with no other 
desire than to be let alone. 
2 



26 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

So passed the first month. The weather was vari- 
able and very different from what I had been led to 
expect. The Fourth of July, for example, came and 
went, while we shivered over a roaring fire. Two 
weeks later, a hot wave struck us, which sent the 
mercury up among the nineties, even in the coolest 
spot of our pine-shaded ground. Along with these 
sudden and extreme changes of temperature, came a 
great deal of rain and some wind. The insects did 
what they could to bother us, and our lack of experi- 
ence cost us many petty annoyances, which would 
seem silly to enumerate, but which are not trivial to 
the invalid. 

With the second month a gain, very slight, but 
still appreciable, began to show itself. There were 
days when I could eat with fair relish, when the 
fever was wholly absent, and when my energy was 
sufficiently aroused to do a little work in the way of 
writing, and to take some slight physical exercise. 
Sometimes these good turns would cover a period of 
three or four days. Of tener, however, they gave way 
at the end of twenty -four hours to a condition wherein 
all the worst symptoms displayed themselves anew. 
At my best, it must be remembered that the cough 
was always present, and always persistent. At my 
worst there were also the fever, the nervous prostra- 
tion, and a miserably impaired digestion. 

At the close of the third month, that is, toward 
the latter part of September, I had made some un- 
mistakable progress. With rare exceptions I sat 
down to my meals with a good appetite. I could 



THE WILDERNESS AND THE EXPERIMENT. 27 

walk half a mile without overtaxing my strength. 
Patience, atropine, and the pure air of the tent had 
about mastered the sweats. The nights, although 
sometimes wakeful, were still restful. I spent an 
hour or two every day in writing, and kept in motion 
enough to give me a fair amount of exercise. 

From this time to the breaking up of our camp, 
November 3d, I continued to pick up a little, albeit a 
backward wave would at intervals strike me and 
temporarily chill my hopes. But when we took down 
the canvas tent in a driving snow-storm, nineteen 
weeks after we had first slept under its shelter, I felt 
that the camp life experiment had proved a success. 
I had gone in miserable, indifferent, and skeptical. I 
was not cured ; but I came out comfortable, alive, 
and full of hope. 



CHAPTER III. 

SOME DELUSIONS DISPELLED. 

"When we first came into the wilderness, or more 
strictly speaking, when the idea of coming was first 
decided upon, a little definite information would have 
been of much practical value. A knowledge of what 
was needed for the trip, of what ought to be done 
after we had reached our destination and of what 
manner of life it was that we were to lead, would 
have saved us an undetermined amount of annoyance, 
disappointment, and unnecessary expense. In short, 
if some other fellow had recorded his experience be- 
fore the summer I went into the woods, I should 
have blessed him, and I should not have written this 
little book. 

The physicians had said, " You must go to the 
Adirondacks and camp out." Yery well. The Adi- 
rondacks it is. And a very little investigation was 
enough to show that the particular spot to go to must 
be " Paul " Smith's. So far the programme was sim- 
ple. But at this point all exact information came to 
an abrupt end. There were the doctors themselves, 
but they had never visited "Paul" Smith's, and 
never camped out. Besides, they were not supposed 



SOME DELUSIONS DISPELLED. 29 

to be encyclopedias of backwoods lore. Their duty 
ended with the command to go. There was Dr. 
Loomis's paper in the Medical Record. This I got 
hold of and read with profound interest, but while it 
gave large cause for hope, it left all minor details 
untouched, and confined its narrative to that simple, 
technical style, characteristic of the medical professor. 
There was the Rev. Mr. Murray's book. That cer- 
tainly ought to contain some important facts. So I 
secured a copy and read it diligently. Facts I found, 
and some very excellent reading to boot ; but the 
possible tourist of Mr. Murray's imagination could 
not be an invalid. He was to journey over long 
" carries," run rapids, penetrate the unexplored for- 
est, and shoot a deer whenever he was hungry. He 
was to provide himself with a rifle, with strong 
woollen trousers, a pair of woollen shirts, two pairs of 
woollen socks, soft felt hat, top boots, a rubber over- 
coat, and plenty of woollen blankets. This super- 
abundance of woollen seemed a little mysterious for 
midsummer wear. But for Mr. Murray's traveller it 
was undoubtedly the thing. Mr. Murray further in- 
structed his reader to make a bag of muslin in which 
to tie up his head and thus shield it against insects, 
and to procure a pair of stout buckskin gloves with 
gauntlets, along with a copious supply of tar and 
sweet oil. To his lady tourist he recommended short 
flannel skirts, Turkish trousers, and a soft hat like a 
man's. All this was undeniably good advice, but it 
did not exactly meet the case of the invalid. 

From Mr. Murray we turned to a dozen other 



30 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

books bearing upon the wilderness, but found only a 
repetition of the woollen, gauze bags, and tar oil. 
Nobody apparently had prepared for other than ro- 
bust travellers in his calculations. It did not seem 
safe to wholly ignore these numerous warnings, and so 
we burdened ourselves with many useless things that 
are never needed here nor elsewhere. I may be par- 
doned if I undertake to dispel a few of the popular 
delusions which have long been cherished with re- 
spect to the Adirondacks, and which, when once re- 
moved, may make the tour for health appear more 
inviting. 

To begin with, " camping out " may be absolutely 
dissociated from salt pork, the frying-pan, and all 
other abominations. One may surround himself, 
forty miles in the wilderness, with all the comforts, 
and nearly all the luxuries, that he might enjoy in his 
own city home. This assertion is made, of course, 
on the assumption that the camp is to be permanent, 
and pitched within easy access of some one of the ho- 
tels. In these pages all the facts given relate to the 
St. Regis region, of which " Paul " Smith's may be 
considered the centre. Perhaps other parts of the 
wilderness afford equal advantages to the seeker after 
health : but it will be my purpose to deal with those 
matters only which come within range of my per- 
sonal experience. A camp, then, situated within a 
radius say of three miles from the hotel, can be made 
thoroughly comfortable. And this is what is meant 
by comfort : 

A tent affording complete protection against rain 



SOME DELUSIONS DISPELLED. 31 

and wind. A good bed in which yon may sleep be- 
tween sheets, and in proper night-garments. Two 
or three bark buildings, one of which may be used as 
a sitting and lounging room, when the weather is 
unpropitious ; another as a dining-room, and a third 
as a kitchen. A small storehouse for garden imple- 
ments, tools, etc. An open arbor, at the water's edge 
an ice-house. In your tent and buildings well-laid 
floors, a stove to take the chill off, if the night grows 
cold, tables, chairs, books, writing utensils, a student 
lamp, a clock, and such other conveniences as you 
may desire. A good table, with a menu embracing 
anything you want, from bouillon to ice-cream. A 
daily mail. Wine and lager beer, stowed in the cool 
bank of sand. A boat to glide over the picturesque 
lake when you feel so disposed. The great forest 
about yon, through which the wind comes laden with 
the rare odors of pine and balsam. A cigar in the 
evening as you sit in front of a blazing log lire, which 
roars and crackles and makes fantastic shadows among 
the giant trees. Freedom — delicious, absolute free- 
dom — from dust and noise, and the roar of city 
streets. 

There is an idea of comfort. 

But there are other mistaken beliefs regarding the 
wilderness besides that which makes camp life a 
hardship. Those who have drawn their information 
from books, instead of experience, are pretty apt to 
pin their faith on one of two extremes. Either they 
picture the Adirondacks as a place where wild beasts 
still rove at large, or else they speak of it disdain- 



32 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

fully as the resort of embryo sportsmen who never 
shoot off their guns for fear of blackening the silver 
mountings. Both of these extremists should come 
up into the woods and look about them with discern- 
ing eyes. They would concede, probably, that the 
best hunting and fishing in New York State are to 
be found here. Whether what is best in New York 
would be more than tolerable in the far West admits 
of doubt. The man who penetrates these woods for 
the first time, expecting to find deer browsing in 
herds, and schools of trout awaiting impatiently the 
delusive fly, will be sadly disappointed. There are 
deer here, undoubtedly — deer to be shot, if the hunts- 
man is possessed of patience and skill enough to 
shoot them ; but observation quickly convinces one 
that these timid animals do not invite self-destruc- 
tion by holding conventions in conspicuous places. 
There are trout here, too, any number of them ; but 
they are wise in their generation, and will not, as a 
rule, accept every fly that is cast with unquestioning 
confidence. From our own tent door we have seen 
three tempting bucks at one time drinking in the 
lake. And yet it was generally difficult to get hold 
of venison throughout the season. An expert and 
genial angler brought in, during our sojourn at the 
hotel, a speckled trout which actually weighed five 
pounds and a half. The skeptical reader may satisfy 
himself of the truth of this assertion, whenever he 
enters "Paul" Smith's, for the rare fish is preserved 
in a glass case in the office. And yet, in spite of this 
palpable proof of what the Adirondack waters con- 



SOME DELUSIONS DISPELLED. 83 

tain, other expert fishermen may cast the fly all day 
and land nothing bigger than a nine-ouncer. Brieiiy 
put, game and fish are here, but they are not to be 
had for the asking. 

So far as the insect pest is concerned, it would not 
be right to count it among the delusions ; but, as has 
already been intimated, it is by no means the evil 
generally represented. If one is careful in the selec- 
tion of a camping spot, making it a point to find high 
ground, overlooking the water, he need not worry 
much about the insects. It would be unjust to rob 
the Adirondack bugs of any of the glory which right- 
fully belongs to them, but, certainly, their achieve- 
ments in the past have been grossly exaggerated. I 
have known mosquitoes — known them intimately and 
to my sorrow — which, dwelling in the modest retire- 
ment of a Brooklyn boarding-house, could do more 
effective work in five minutes than their Adirondack 
fellows can in five weeks. The black flies which 
come early in the season, and disappear almost wholly 
by the first of July, were scarcely seen by us in camp. 
Midges are certainly a nuisance, but a very slight 
breeze is enough to carry them off, and this breeze 
we generally enjoyed. It may be necessary, oc- 
casionally, to resort to the smudge — that is, a half- 
smothered fire, kindled in an old pan or pail, and 
placed in the tent long enough to smoke out the 
winged nuisances — but, as a rule, the pollution of the 
atmosphere caused by this remedy is more to be 
dreaded than the evil itself. A mosquito netting to 
cover the bed should always be provided. Yet even 
2* 



34 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

this will be found unnecessary after the first week of 
September, and from that time forth no trouble need 
be apprehended from any sort of insect. 

A few years ago it was a common thing to run 
across a bear anywhere in the St. Regis region. So, 
at least, the veteran guides declare, and doubtless 
there is some foundation for the assertion. But all 
the accounts of wild beasts in the woods to-day are 
to be accepted with caution, if accepted at all. The 
tourist might travel through the very heart of the 
wilderness, and, indeed, spend his life in so travel- 
ling, without once setting eyes on any animal more 
ferocious than the deer. The wild beast feature may, 
therefore, be entirely eliminated from Adirondack 
life. 

Then, again, although a camp should be pitched 
forty miles in the wilderness, the dweller therein 
would not be shut out from communication with the 
world. He will get his mail regularly every day 
through the hotel, and he will find the telegraph 
wires at his disposal. He may read Monday morn- 
ing's papers in his tent Tuesday afternoon. If urgent 
reasons should make it necessary for him to return 
at once to civilization, he can take his departure at 
eight o'clock in the morning and awake the next 
morning in New York. This consciousness of prox- 
imity to the outer world, while one is seemingly shut 
up in the primeval forest, does much to reconcile the 
invalid to his new life. He is comforted, too, by the 
reflection that skilful medical aid, if such should be 
needed, is within reach ; for, apart from Dr. Trudeau, 



SOME DELUSIONS DISPELLED. 35 

whom the year-round inhabitants are proud to regard 
as belonging to the country, there is scarcely a week 
during the camping-out season, when one or more 
physicians may not be found at the hotel. Dr. 
Loomis owns a cottage within a stone's throw of the 
St. Regis Lake House, in which he spends a month 
or two every summer. The consumptive does not 
come into the wilderness to dose himself with med- 
icine, but it is nevertheless a good thing to have a 
trustworthy physician within easy call. 

Adopting the theory which is held to by most of 
the medical authorities of the day, that phthisis is a 
disease which calls for an abundance of the most 
nutritious food, the invalid in the woods finds him- 
self in a peculiarly fortunate position. For here he 
may obtain, with comparatively little trouble, almost 
anything he desires to eat. Through the supply- 
store in the hotel, the delicacies and dainties of the 
table are at his disposal. Beef, mutton, and poultry 
are always to be had. In its season, venison, while 
not superabundant, can generally be obtained as often 
as the patient craves it. Speckled trout, fresh from 
the clear waters of the mountain streams, are as 
plentiful as smelts in Fulton Market. Later, the 
partridge tempts the appetite, and is supplied at 
surprisingly cheap rates. Fresh eggs, pure milk, and 
excellent butter are all to be had from the inhabit- 
ants or hotel. In short, if good living ever enables 
a man to conquer consumption, this is the place to 
find it. 

Briefly, then, to recapitulate : this wilderness ex- 



36 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

periment need entail no hardship, no privation, and, 
as I shall show hereafter, only a very moderate out- 
lay of money. In setting out on the journey the in- 
valid need not encumber himself with any of the ex- 
traordinary equipments enumerated in the guide- 
books. He may rest assured that his camp-life can 
be made comfortable and even luxurious. He has 
the word of the writer, given after full and fair ex- 
perience, that a bed in a canvas tent is one of the de- 
licious things in this life which, after trial, can never 
be forgotten. If his strength permits, and his taste 
runs in that direction, he may be sure that he will 
find fair hunting and excellent fishing in the St. Regis 
region. On the contrary, if he is too much of an in- 
valid to indulge in these pursuits, or if he has no 
fondness for them, he may solace himself with the 
reflection that others will gladly provide him with 
fish and game. If a lady, nervous and timid, she 
may put the wild beast bugbear out of mind once 
and for all. As for the flies and mosquitoes, they 
are too trivial an annoyance to be seriously considered. 
The patient is not shut off from communication with 
the outer world nor from agreeable companionship. 
He is not put beyond the reach of skilful medical 
attendance. He is not obliged to forego the pleas- 
ures of the table. In a word, he is not compelled to 
make any great sacrifice in return for the precious 
privilege of breathing in, by night and by day, this 
God -given, life-saving air. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PREPARATIONS FOR AN" INVALID^ CAMP. 

Let it be supposed that the searcher after health 
lias made up his mind to give the Adirondack ex- 
periment a trial. This conclusion should he reached, 
of course, only after consultation with a reputable 
physician. For it is always to be borne in mind, 
that while the more apparent symptoms of what is 
called consumption bear a close resemblance in pret- 
ty much all cases, yet the treatment required for one 
may be very different from another. And certainly 
it is not the purpose of the writer to persuade others 
to try the experiment of the woods unless with the 
consent of a doctor in whom the patient himself has 
confidence, and under whose advice he acts. 

Supposing, however, the advice to have been given, 
and the trip determined upon. For its preparation, 
as has been already said, no extraordinary steps need 
be taken. If a man, the invalid will pack his trunk 
with such articles as naturally suggest themselves for 
a sojourn abroad of six months or a year. The only 
deviation from the usual necessities should be made 
by substituting woollen shirts for those which need 
the laundryman's skill before wearing. Linen cuffs 



36 THE WILDEENESS CUKE. 

and collars may be dispensed with, and a plentiful 
supply of underclothing and woollen socks provided. 
It is a good thing, too, to have a night-dress of flan- 
nel, long and loose. In the case of a woman, it would 
be presumptuous to dictate her wardrobe, but she 
may safely leave behind her the Turkish trousers 
and gauze bags. For anybody, the simple direction 
to take plenty of good warm apparel is enough. 

From whatever point the tourist sets out, unless it 
be from Montreal or that part of Xew England which 
lies nearer to Lake Champlain than to Boston or 
Albany, he should make Saratoga his objective point. 
Thence the journey to Plattsburg may be accom- 
plished all the way by rail, in something less than 
six hours ; or a steamer may be taken at Whitehall 
by those who care to get a better view of the pictu- 
resque Lake Champlain. Plattsburg is well provided 
with hotels, and a pleasant rest of a day or two may 
be taken there, if desired. The distance to St. Regis 
Lake is. about sixty miles. At present, twenty of 
this is made by rail, and the remainder by stage. It 
is expected, however, that before the close of the 
summer of 1881 this stage ride of forty miles will 
be shortened by more than one third — the railroad, 
which was built by the State to the Clinton Prison, 
liaving been extended so as to bring it to a point 
twenty-four miles from " Paul " Smith's. It remains 
now only to cut a carriage-road through the woods 
from the terminus of the railroad to the hotel. 
However, the invalid need not be frightened out of 
coming at the prospect of travelling over the old route. 



PREPARATIONS FOR AN INVALID^ CAMP. 39 

He will find the stage ride much less irksome than 
he supposes, and if too weak to make the entire trip 
in one day, he may stop over at the half-way house, 
which is reached about noon, and which supplies the 
traveller with dinner. If the invalid chooses to push 
ahead, he will be set down at "Paul" Smith's some- 
where about five o'clock in the afternoon. 

It is safe to assume that pretty nearly everybody 
who has heard of the Adirondacks has heard also 
of Paul Smith's. Indeed, the definiteness with which 
that name is fixed in the tourist's mind causes him 
to stare with rather a nonplussed expression at the 
sign which greets his eyes when he first steps from 
the stage on to the piazza of this remarkable hostelry. 
Can it be that he has gone astray and brought up at 
the wrong spot ? If not, why is the sign over the 
door " A. A. Smith," instead of " Paul " Smith ? 
When he comes to solve this riddle, he learns that 
the genial backwoods landlord was originally named 
Apollos Austin. The Austin was condensed to an 
A., and the Apollos abbreviated to Polly, which in 
good time reduced itself to Pol. This stood the test 
of some years, but finally, by precisely what system 
remains unknown, evolved itself into Paul. To-day, 
the owner of the double-vowel initials repudiates 
them both and recognizes himself only as Paul. This 
metamorphosis in name is less remarkable than that 
in the landlord's surroundings. Twenty years ago, 
when " Paul " Smith put up a frame building of 
modest dimensions to accommodate the stray sports- 
men who occasionally drifted through that part of the 



40 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

wilderness, lie would have counted twelve lodgers oh 
a single night as indicative of amazing prosperity. 
Now, in what is called " the season," more than three 
hundred guests often find accommodation in the 
house. By successive stages of growth — periodic ad- 
ditions of wings and Ls — the original tavern has 
stretched itself into the proportions of a first class 
summer-resort hotel. Indeed, its wings are so ab- 
surdly out of proportion to it3 original body, that it 
presents a butterfly appearance to those who knew 
it of old. The general verdict of all who make the 
hotel their headquarters is that it sets an excellent 
table, and furnishes every comfort which in reason 
can be expected. The rooms are neat and attractively 
furnished, the beds what they should be, the attend- 
ance good, and the general atmosphere of the house 
pleasant and homelike. But above all this, to the 
person accustomed to a city hotel, the thing which 
makes the deepest impression — which leads him al- 
ways to return to " Paul " Smith's, after he has been 
there once — is the unaffected kindness of the land- 
lord and his wife. In this there is not the slightest 
flavor of obsequiousness, nor a hint of mercenary 
motive. In evolutionizing from Apollos to Paul, in 
the transition from buckskin to point-lace surround- 
ings, the man himself has not changed. No one is 
ever more welcome than he when the big parlor is 
crowded with fashionably dressed women and velvet- 
coated sportsmen. Yet if you want to find " Paul," 
you must look elsewhere than here, The simplicity 
of his nature, which is in nowise allied to simpleness, 



PREPARATIONS FOR AN INVALID^ CAMP. 41 

would be ref resiling in any man. It is absolutely 
irresistible in the proprietor of a " fashionable " hotel. 

For, I grieve to say, that Paul Smith's has become 
an undeniably fashionable resort. You will find less 
vulgar display than at Saratoga, but you will also 
find more solid wealth and more genuine purse-aris- 
tocracy. Precisely why these robust ladies put them- 
selves to the inconvenience of penetrating the wilder- 
ness for the purpose of displaying their diamonds on 
the hotel-piazza, of reading a novel or lounging lazily 
in their rooms, of playing a mild game of whist and 
eating three hearty meals a day, is a mystery. For, 
although fashionable, St. Pegis Lake affords most 
limited opportunities for the display of wealth where 
it can be seen of others. The year-round inhabitant 
is certainly an unpromising subject to undertake to 
dazzle. The man who has never seen a train of cars 
in this age is not to be made envious by diamonds or 
the most elaborate of toilets. 

The fashionable element, however, is not to be 
counted a drawback in the case of the invalid. On 
the contrary, it is much better that he should be set 
down on the gay piazza of the hotel, where laughter 
and bright faces and the hum of many voices tell of 
the pleasures of life, than that he should find his 
destination a sanitarium pervaded by the odor of the 
sick-room. The very presence of these thoughtless, 
sound-lunged persons often proves a kind of tonic. 
His cough brings no sympathetic response from any 
fellow-sufferer — only a kind of brazen stare from 
the man with the athletic chest and the friar's diges- 



42 THE WILDEKNESS CUKE. 

tion ; and that stare awakens the invalid's resentment, 
and causes him to struggle with the wretched indica- 
tion of his ailment until he strangles it for the time 
being. 

As to the length of time to be spent at the hotel 
before entering upon the experiment of camp-life, 
that must, of course, be largely determined by cir- 
cumstances. If the patient's strength permits, there 
is no reason why he should not be established in his 
tent within a week after his arrival. But should his 
condition be more critical, it may be necessary to de- 
lay the removal to camp until the bracing air has 
done something toward building up the wasted pow- 
ers. In rare instances, where the disease is far ad- 
vanced, it may not be advisable to try the camp-life 
at all, but in lieu thereof, to remain permanently at 
the hotel. In any event, it will be best to leave the 
question of camping-out to the physician — not neces- 
sarily to the home doctor, but to" some one of the 
faculty who is personally familiar with this manner 
of life. For our present purpose, let it be assumed 
that the invalid is strong enough to try the camp as 
soon after his arrival as the necessary preparations 
can be made. What steps shall he take to best ac- 
complish his object ? 

First. — It is all-important that the invalid should 
secure the services of a faithful, competent guide. 
That word is used in conformity with the vernacular 
of the wilderness. As a matter of fact, there is very 
little " guiding " required by the person who is hunt- 
ing for health. But as all the men who offer their 



PREPARATIONS FOR AN INVALID S CAMP. 4J 

services are called guides, the word may be used to 
avoid confusion. A good guide, then, is the first 
essential thing to find. And this question, like many 
others, may be advantageously left to the managing 
clerk of the hotel, Mr. Charles E. Martin. 

Second. — The selection of a guide once made, the 
next step will be the choice of a spot whereon to 
pitch the camp. In deciding this question it should 
be kept in mind that the point chosen ought not to 
be more than a mile or two from the hotel, that it 
should be on high ground, as nearly surrounded by 
water as possible, and as abundantly supplied with 
trees as may be. Plenty of such places may be found 
on the Upper and Lower St. Hegis Lakes, on Spitfire 
and Osgood Ponds. It were much wiser to build a 
camp within jiyq hundred feet of the hotel — and 
many of them might be built within such a radius — 
than to strike out too far from the centre of supplies. 
High ground is to be looked to, not so much to avoid 
dampness, for there is no dampness worth speaking 
of in the region, as to keep clear of insects. The 
proximity of pine and balsam trees is a most desir- 
able thing, whether regarded from the medical point 
of view or as a matter of mere comfort. For it should 
not be forgotten that even in the Adirondacks there 
are days when the sun blisters the earth and makes 
shade most welcome. The camping-ground should 
invariably border the water, not only because of the 
invigorating breeze thus obtained, but also because 
the mountain lakes are the highways over which 
most of the travel is accomplished. 



44 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

Third* — We have now the guide and the camping- 
ground. In the sequence of importance, the tent 
stands next. This is so prominent a feature of the 
whole experiment, that it will richly repay the in- 
valid to provide himself with the Lest. If two per- 
sons are to occupy the tent, it should be not less than 
12 feet square. 12 by 14 feet is perhaps a better 
size. If the camper-out is alone, the canvas will 
serve its purpose if it measures 8 by 10 feet. Yet, 
even for one person, the larger size is much to be 
preferred. In case there is no question about the 
invalid's ability to go into camp immediately upon 
his reaching the wilderness, then it would be an ex- 
cellent plan to purchase a tent before setting out on 
his journey. Otherwise, he may either order one 
after his arrival, or, if his sojourn is uncertain, he 
may hire one from the hotel. Large or small, the 
tent should be of the shape known as a wall tent, 
sound and whole, and protected by a "fly." The 
interior should always be floored, and provided with 
a stove. For the rest of the furniture the taste of 
the occupant must decide. A serviceable bedstead 
can be constructed by the guide out of poles, but the 
tourist should see to it that he is provided with a 
good mattress or two, pillows, and plenty of warm 
bedding. In place of an under mattress, boughs of 
balsam or hemlock may be used, a covering of stout 
cloth being first stretched over the bedstead. If the 
guide possesses the usual ingenuity of his class, he 
will be able to build tables, chairs, a lounge, and 
many other useful articles of furniture. 



PREPARATIONS FOR AN INVALID' S CAMP. 45 

Fourth. — Apart from the tent, the only building 
absolutely necessary to the carrying out of the camp- 
life experiment is a kitchen, which may be so divided 
as to afford accommodations for the storage of pro- 
visions. It is better, however, on some accounts to 
have a separate storehouse or pantry, as the guide 
calls it ; but this is a matter of individual preference. 
Some sort of a place in which to cook, however, is 
indispensable. Such a place can be put up in a day 
by two competent men. If to be used only as a 
kitchen, a bark building, say six feet by eight, will 
serve all purposes. These bark buildings, which can 
be made to display no little architectural beauty, are 
constructed on a frame- work of poles and boards, to 
which latter the bark is nailed. It is best to floor 
the kitchen, and, indeed, all the buildings of a per- 
manent camp, with boards ; but, except in the case of 
a tent, it is not a necessity. A good cook-stove 
should be the first and chiefest adornment of the 
kitchen. They have some theories here, indigenous 
to the country, of cooking by an open fire out of 
doors. The idea is poetical, but the palpable results 
are smoky. Let the kitchen be furnished with all 
the utensils usually found in such quarters, and let 
the frying-pan be hung so high up that the guide can 
reach it only in case of an emergency. If the store- 
room is to be a part of the same building, make the 
kitchen three or four feet longer. If separate quar- 
ters are provided for the keeping of ice, food, and 
other stores, it will be found wiser to put up a build- 
ing six or seven feet square, rather than a mere cup- 



46 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

board. The storehouse, in any case, should have a 
cellar ; and if the floor is boarded, this may be cov- 
ered by a trap-door. 

Fifth. — The proximity of the hotel makes unne- 
cessary the laying-in of a large stock of provisions ; 
but on many accounts it is advantageous to buy the 
staple articles of food in considerable quantities. 
Flour, oatmeal, hominy, canned vegetables, potatoes, 
butter, eggs, sugar, tea, coffee, and whatever else is 
needed, may be bought at the hotel, much or little, 
as is desired ; also beef and mutton, ham and pork — 
for the guide will be unhappy without the latter. 
For milk it will be best to look to the nearest year- 
round inhabitant who keeps a cow. From a similar 
source eggs and butter may be obtained. The coun- 
try is too bleak, and the soil too sandy, for the pro- 
duction of early spring vegetables, but, still, string 
beans, green peas, sweet corn, squashes, beets, onions 
and turnips, with now and then a cucumber and 
musk-melon, may all be had in good time. "Wild 
strawberries and blueberries are plentiful. Tomatoes 
rarely ripen, so that the canned article must be sub- 
stituted. A week's rations will be all sufficient to 
take into camp at the outset. 

Sixth. — The regular guide furnishes his own boat ; 
but in the case of a man who is hired to take charge 
of a permanent camp, he may or may not be the pos- 
sessor of this indispensable accompaniment. All 
other things equal, the man with a boat is much to 
be preferred to the man without one. If, however, 
the camper-out sees fit, he may engage a boat for the 



PREPARATIONS FOR AN INVALID'S CAMP. 47 

season from the hotel, or he may buy one outright. 
For the other absolutely necessary things — stoves, 
boards for the bark building and floors, nails, mat- 
tresses, bedding, crockery, and cooking utensils, a 
mosquito-netting, candles — the novitiate need only 
make known his wants to the clerk of the hotel and 
all will be provided. 

When the foregoing steps have been taken, the 
invalid will be prepared to move into camp. As for 
enlarging and beautifying his primitive quarters, 
that will be a task to afford pleasant occupation after 
he has taken possession. "What has already been 
pointed out will be quite sufficient for him to begin 
the experiment comfortably and auspiciously. 



CHAPTER Y. 

MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 

At the outset of camp life, assuming that the 
invalid has never tried it before, there will be, of 
necessity, some drawbacks and disappointments. 
Perhaps the weather will be cold or stormy, making 
it imperative to hug the stove the day through. Or 
perhaps the guide's manner of preparing food will 
prove unsatisfactory, thereby making the food itself 
seemingly of poor quality. Or perhaps a high wind 
will come up at night and roar through the trees with 
a dismal sound, and shake the tent with such vio- 
lence that the occupant will believe his frail structure 
is about to be blown to atoms. Or perhaps the 
excitement attendant upon arranging the camp, ad- 
ded to the strangeness of the life, will temporarily 
prostrate the patient and cause the bad symptoms to 
display themselves with renewed virulence. Under 
any or all of these discomforting conditions, it must 
be the one great aim of the invalid not to grow dis- 
couraged. A fortnight, a month, two months may 
pass, and still no perceptible results of the new mode 
of life can be perceived. And still it is the health- 
seeker's one chance, to hold to the faith which first 
inspired him to make the experiment. 



MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 49 

When Nature is called in as a physician, she is 
often dishearteningly slow in her process and cure. 
She has none of Dr. Lumbo's liniment in her phar- 
macopoeia. She exacts unquestioning belief in her 
powers, and a patience which endures with the dura- 
tion of life. The experimenter in the wilderness 
has been in the grip of grim disease for months — for 
years, possibly. For months, for years, he has been 
breathing in the poisoned air of crowded cities and 
un ventilated rooms. Slowly, very slowly, as the 
walls of the dungeon closed in, inch by inch, on the 
wretched prisoner, until the great apartment had 
become but a tomb, so the hand of disease has closed 
upon its victim. And this terrible grip in a day, nor 
a month, cannot be loosened. Perhaps it never can 
be loosened ; but if at all, only by that slow process 
of Nature which prints the delicate fern upon the 
solid rock. That wondrously fine tissue of the lungs 
has been torn and wasted by the racking cough. If 
this waste is to be checked, it must be a work of pa- 
tient labor. So, if the experiment of pure air is to 
be tried at all, it should be undertaken with the firm 
resolve to give it a full and fair trial. Otherwise, 
the consumptive would better keep out of the wilder- 
ness altogether. 

If he has the pluck to withstand the first few dis- 
couragements which will be pretty sure to fall to his 
lot, the invalid will very soon discover many things 
about camp life which make it in the end decidedly 
pleasant. It is somewhat of a gift, and not wholly a 
virtue to be acquired, for one to adapt himself easily 
3 



50 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

to his surroundings. Still, will-power has something 
to do with making one contented. If the patient is 
strong enough to interest himself in the work of im- 
proving the camp, he is to be counted fortunate. 
Naturally, a person will take more or less pride in 
fitting up attractively quarters he is to occupy for a 
considerable period, and where the means for doing 
this are so abundantly furnished as in the woods, the 
work may be prosecuted with very gratifying results. 
Our suppositious invalid has thus far provided him- 
self only with what may be termed the indispensa- 
ble adjuncts of camp life. He may now, with equal 
pleasure and profit, devote himself to the procure- 
ment of the luxuries possible in the wilderness. The 
thousand and one little conveniences with which he 
may surround himself will tend in no small measure 
to make his new life attractive. 

Nothing can be prettier in their way than the bark 
buildings to which reference has been made. One 
or two of these, in addition to the kitchen and store- 
house, can easily be erected and serviceably used. 
Whatever the virtues lacking in the average Adiron- 
dack guide, mechanical ingenuity is certainly not 
among them. He is quick in expedients, and handles 
the hammer and saw like a skilful carpenter. So the 
bark buildings, as well as the other contrivances 
which may be mentioned, can be had with small out- 
lay of time and money. One of these cabin-like 
structures may be fitted up as a dining-room, to be 
used in stormy weather or when it is too cold to eat 
out-of-doors. Then, an open arbor, with the roof of 



MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 51 

bark covered, is both ornamental and useful. There, 
in pleasant weather, the meals may be served, a sta- 
tionary table being set up under the roof. If the 
camper-out is given to hunting and fishing, a small 
bark building can be utilized for the storage of guns 
and fishing-tackle. The guide's quarters may be 
either of bark or canvas, and he may be left to fur- 
nish them for himself. 

A boat-landing can be readily constructed by pro- 
jecting two or three heavy logs into the water and 
covering these with planks. It is a good thing, too, 
to have some sort of structure in which to store the 
boat when not in use. The all-serviceable bark may 
be used for this purpose, and the boat-house can be 
made an ornamental gateway to the camp. The small 
spruce-trees, which almost everywhere in the region 
are to be found in abundance, furnish precisely the 
material wanted for the manufacture of rustic chairs 
and benches. The ingenuity of the guide may be 
counted upon for the construction of almost every 
piece of furniture needful. That is, he can build 
chairs, tables, a lounge and bedstead ; and all these 
can be made not only comfortable, but tasteful, and 
in keeping with the surroundings. It will be seen, 
therefore, that there is no need to supply one's self be- 
forehand with such articles as have been enumerated. 

The work of improving and beautifying a camp 
may be continued indefinitely, for something will 
suggest itself daily, which, when done, will add to 
the comfort or pleasure of the life. Of course, no 
fixed rules can be laid down for the details of this 



52 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

work, since the location of the ground and individual 
taste must determine how to proceed. It may not 
be out of place, however, to sketch with some min- 
uteness one camp which has had an existence other 
than that on paper. This view, let it be remembered, 
is taken toward the end of the camping-out season, 
and after a four months' occupancy of the premises. 
Some idea of its situation and general appearance has 
already been given in these pages, but the Camp Lou 
of October was a very different place from the Camp 
Lou of June. 

Standing, as has been said, on a bluff, which 
stretches, peninsula-like, into the clear waters of Os- 
good Pond, the natural advantages of the spot for 
the purpose desired could not well be surpassed. 
Almost always a cool breeze sweeps across the lake, 
making the air, even in the hottest days, deliciously 
cool. Whichever way the eye turns, it rests upon a 
scene of singular beauty. The densely -wooded shore 
across the lake rises darkly against the blue of the 
more distant mountains. Nowhere within the whole 
range of vision is there aught to be seen to mar the 
face of ^Nature by the suggestion of man's laborious 
toil. Xot a house nor barn nor fence nor foot of 
cultivated soil. Nothing but the sentinel pines, and 
ail the fragrant family of evergreens, the blue moun- 
tains, the clear, transparent lake, and the over-arch- 
ing sky. As you climb the gradual ascent which 
leads from the boat-landing, your feet press down a 
carpet of moss which grows luxuriantly on all sides. 
Besides this, the sandy earth is strewn with the dried 



MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 53 

pine-needles and the stubby partridge-grass, while 
here and there sprouts a blueberry bush, or a cluster 
of plume-like ferns. 

Facing the lake, and in a line with the precipitous 
bank, stand the bark buildings and the canvas tent 
which collectively make up the camp. First in order 
comes the cabin. Its framework of spruce poles and 
boards is covered with wide strips of bark. The in- 
terior measures but ten feet by eight, while the porch 
in front, over which the roof projects, adds six feet to 
its length. Both the interior and porch are floored 
with planks, while a rustic seat outside gives an invit- 
ing appearance to the little house. The cabin is water- 
proof, or at all events so nearly so that the rain is 
not to be feared. It has its window, door, and stove, 
and is altogether a snug place. Within may be 
found a lounge, shelves containing books and maga- 
zines, a rifle hanging on the wall, chairs, and a table. 
In the cool autumnal days, this cabin serves as a 
dining-room, while in the heat of summer it affords 
a cool retreat for a midday nap. Next to the cabin, 
and a dozen or more feet beyond it, is the tent. This 
measures thirteen feet by twelve. The board floor 
is partly covered with rags, while the open stove rests ( 
on a stone fireplace. The furniture of the tent, al- 
beit mostly home-made, is comfortable and designed 
for use. There is a bed, quite as inviting as one 
finds in his own room. A writing-table, a set of 
shelves, a bookcase, a waslistand, two easy chairs and 
a trunk, transformed into an ottoman, complete the 
equipments. Beyond the tent, in line with it, are 



54 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

two more bark buildings, the first the kitchen and 
the second the storehouse. Still further on and 
nearer the bank is an open arbor, densely shaded by 
spruce-trees. Then there are the guide's quarters, 
and, here and there, under the branches of the trees, 
rustic benches and chairs. 

The stretch of level ground on which Camp Lou 
is built, cost no little labor to prepare ; for, origin- 
ally, the earth was uneven and disfigured by the 
stumps of fallen pines which may have gone down in 
a forgotten forest fire. Young spruces have been set 
out at various points, and gravel walks connect the 
several buildings. Taken as a whole, although the 
adornments are of a simple, and by no means ex- 
pensive nature, the spot is attractive to the eye, and 
the conveniences sufficient to make camp life a 
pleasure rather than hardship. 

It will be very quickly discovered by the new- 
comer, that man's resemblance to the parrot is quite 
as strongly developed here in the wilderness as in 
the centres of civilization. The second camper-out 
imitates the one who went before him, and the last 
one follows pretty closely the footsteps of all who 
have preceded. Another name. for this imitative 
faculty is fashion — and there is a prevailing fashion 
even in the construction of camps. Precisely what 
that is may be best learned from the guides who have 
their own ideas as to how things ought to be done. 
The camper-out will sometimes do better to be gov- 
erned by his own judgment than by that of others. 
Of course, the size of a camp should be regulated by 



MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 55 

the number of persons it is intended to accommodate. 
Its adornments will perhaps be determined by tlie 
purse of the builder. Given the necessary equip- 
ments, and the ordinary work of a camp for two peo- 
ple can be satisfactorily done by one good man. If, 
however, one wishes to make more of a display, half 
a dozen guides — it will be remembered that this 
word is used simply as a convenient way of designat- 
ing those native and to the wilderness born — may be 
given employment. Precisely the same rule can be 
applied to the camp as to the private house, and the 
domestic economy of one bears a strong resemblance 
to the other. If rich enough to afford it, the patient 
in the wilderness may have his valet, his cook, his 
butler, his coachman, and his retinue of attendants all 
as devoted as valets, cooks, butlers, and coachmen 
ever were or will be. But if too poor to surround 
himself with these auxiliaries, he may still live, and 
live comfortably, with a single competent attendant. 
Among the minor things which it will be well to 
look after closely when fitting up a camp, are the 
floors, especially in the tent, the stoves, and the 
roofs of the bark buildings. The fact seems a little 
odd, but it is none the less a fact, that in the very 
heart of a lumber-growing country, lumber is unusu- 
ally difficult to obtain. For the most part unplaned, 
and generally unseasoned, planks are used in the con- 
struction of a camp. These serve well enough for a 
majority of purposes, but when it comes to the floor- 
ing of the tent, well-seasoned, matched boards, and 
no others, should be used. This is of much import- 



56 THE WILDEENESS CUKE. 

ance, for the reason that the rougher timber warps 
and shrinks under the action of the weather, so that 
when the colder days of autumn come around, the 
floor is filled with wide crevices through which the 
wind blows up uncomfortably cold. It need hardly 
be said that this is a condition of things which the 
invalid should avoid. With regard to the stoves, it 
is to be remembered that whatever the season of the 
year, or whatever the altitude of the mercury, no 
health-seeker should think of going into camp with- 
out providing his tent with some sort of heating ap- 
paratus. Even if the days are scorchingly hot, there 
is pretty sure to come a time in the twenty-four hours 
when the air grows chilly ; and it is always safe, 
moreover, to count on some stormy days, even in 
midsummer, when a fire is most acceptable. The 
necessity of making the roofs of the bark buildings 
as nearly water-proof as may be, will be apparent to 
all. This can much better be accomplished when 
the building is first constructed, than afterwards by 
attempting to calk up the crevices. If the boards 
which support the bark on the roof be placed not 
more than a foot apart, and the bark itself be lapped 
over, shingle -fashion, and closely nailed, there will 
be little to fear from the rain. 

" If the first season of camp life justifies the patient 
in looking forward to a second trial of it, it may be a 
good thing to have an ice-house built in the autumn 
and stored with ice during the winter. This may be 
done with little trouble and expense. Two or three 
tons are enough to last through the camping-out 



MAKING A CAMP ATTRACTIVE. 57 

period, and besides saving the labor of bringing the 
ice from the hotel, its place of storage forms a capi- 
tal refrigerator for keeping supplies through the hot 
weather. 

The land about the St. Regis region is for the 
most part private property. It is held in immense 
tracts by individual owners. The right to the ground 
is not, therefore, a legal one, with the camper-out. 
But so long as a proper regard is shown for the pres- 
ervation of the property, and care taken not to ma- 
liciously injure the woodland, nobody need fear dis- 
possession. 

3* 



CHAPTER YI. 

CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 

Given a fishing-rod and a rifle, as central figures ; 
a mountain lake, flashing in the sunlight ; fragrant 
forests of mighty pines, through which the timid 
deer runs affrighted at the hounds' ominous bark; 
hours of sweet idleness and delicious communion 
with nature, and, with all, a background of robust 
health, of high spirits, of absolute freedom from 
gnawing anxiety ; given all these, and it is not a very 
difficult task to paint an attractive picture of camp 
life. But where these happy conditions are in many 
essential respects lacking ; where the camp is not an 
Eden of a week for the tasting of sport, but the san- 
itarium of a season for the getting of health, and, 
above all, where the camper-out himself cannot cut 
loose from the thraldom of disease, nor know the 
keen pleasure of the rod and gun, then to invest 
camp life with anything of a charm is a more per- 
plexing undertaking 

It seems to have been assumed by all whose enthu- 
siasm has prompted them to write and publish their 
experiences iu the Adirondacks, that everybody is 
born into the world with a yearning for out-of-door 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 59 

sport. Perhaps there is a large foundation in fact 
for this assumption. Still it must be confessed that 
now and then some wretched barbarian comes to the 
surface who finds no enjoyment in a gun — no ses- 
tlietic delight in a fly-rod. Luckily this particular 
specimen of the barbarian is rare, as are the people 
who do not eat strawberries or relish oysters. But a 
more numerous class of those who may hereafter seek 
the wilderness as health-hunters only, will be found 
composed of invalids, whose physical weakness, and 
not natural inclination, will shut them off from the 
enjoyment of the rod and gun. To these, more es- 
pecially, this chapter will address itself, with a view 
to indicating the camp life of an invalid. 

It cannot be denied that this life is monotonous. 
The days come and go with so little to distinguish 
one from another, except it be the variable mood of 
the weather, that one is really in danger of losing 
track of time as completely as did Robinson Crusoe. 
In densely-settled places — in the bustle of great cit- 
ies—every day in the week gets to have a character 
peculiar to itself. ISTobody could mistake Saturday 
in Central Park any more than he could Sunday at 
Manhattan Beach. What thrifty New England house- 
wife would wash on any day save Monday, or iron on 
any day save Tuesday ? What orthodox boarding- 
house would omit to mark Friday with a fish ? But 
here, in the heart of the vast wilderness, there is no 
Monday nor Tuesday, and only a very faint impres- 
sion of Sunday. The fish sign would make Friday 
of pretty much all days, while the unbroken stillness 



60 TFTE WILDERNESS CUBE. 

gives seven old Puritan Sundays to every week. Take 
away the ability to hunt or cast a fly, and there is 
really nothing left to the camper-out in the way of 
circumstantial recreation. He must devise his own 
amusements, and find contentment in what, under 
other conditions, would perhaps seem tame and in- 
sipid. He will have always the gracious companion- 
ship of Nature — but that is something at once so 
subtle and exalted, that all mankind are not permit- 
ted to enjoy it. 

The camp life of an invalid will be pleasant just 
in proportion to the resources within himself for 
making it so. If long accustomed to find recreation 
in excitement, in society, in the stimulus of city at- 
tractions, then, naturally, the seclusion and isolation 
of the camp will be wearisome in the extreme. Not 
a few of those who have already made the experi- 
ment of the wilderness cure have found this tempo- 
rary banishment so irksome, that they have volunta- 
rily thrown up the chance of recovering health, and 
gone back to die within hearing of the gay world's 
laugh. For this very reason it has seemed proper 
to impress upon those who may contemplate a trial 
of the Adirondacks, the necessity of preparing for all 
such discomforts as they will really be called upon to 
encounter. If this little book were the product of a 
physician's brain, it would not be likely to deal with 
the question of cure in this unscientific manner. The 
medical authorities, who decree that castor oil is 
sometimes a needed remedy, do not stop to discuss 
the probability of the pinafored -patient's objecting 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 61 

to the dose. With even better grounds, it might be 
assumed that the person of mature years, who is fight- 
ing a desperate disease, and who, unlike the young- 
ster doomed to castor oil, is intelligent enough to 
understand that the oil is for his good only, would 
not hesitate to make any sacrifice of mere temporary 
physical comfort for the sake of ultimate recovery. 
And yet, limited as has been the writer's observation 
in this matter, it has still served to convince him that 
the whiskered phthisical patient is often quite as 
obstinate as the small boy sentenced to castor oil. 
Moreover, those things which are counted the veriest 
trifles by the strong and able-bodied, assume often an 
importance in the eyes of the confirmed invalid which 
would be ridiculous were it not seriously connected 
with his chances of recovery. It may so happen that 
an unfortunate selection of a guide will determine a 
patient to abandon the wilderness experiment alto- 
gether. Or, barren in resources within himself, and 
cut off from long-accustomed associations, he may 
find the quiet monotony of camp life unendurable ; 
and, in a moment of feverish longing for the bustling 
city, he may hasten home, thus throwing to the winds 
his. last hope of restored health. 

The three degrees of comfort attainable in the 
camp of the invalid may be thus formulated : First, 
if the patient is in the earlier stages of the disease 
so that he can roam about at will, and is possessed 
of an honest love of nature and of the hunter's or 
fisherman's craft, then there is no reason why he 
should not be in a state of superlative contentment. 



G2 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

Again, supposing him still strong enough to enjoy 
life, and to feel a well man's interest in what is 
taking place, then, even if he has no taste for the 
sportsman's pursuits, his camp life may, nevertheless, 
represent comparative contentment. But if he be an 
actual sufferer from the more acute phthisical symp- 
toms, doomed to wearying inaction, and additionally 
unfortunate in possessing neither a love of sport nor 
a mind to grasp the beauties of nature, then it is 
easy to perceive that his lot in the wilderness will be 
one of positive misery. Yet in so deplorable a con- 
dition as the last, it may be questioned whether he 
would not be positively miserable anywhere. 

Nothing can add so much to the attractiveness of 
the invalid's camp as congenial companionship. The 
man who is so blessed by fate as to be able to bring 
wife and children into the wilderness with him — 
and this, as will be demonstrated later, is practicable 
even to the degree of economy — has, perhaps, the 
best chance for recovery, and the smallest claim to 
sympathy. If there be no wife or child, then some 
one near of kin and dear to heart should, if possible, 
bear the patient company. The society, too, of the 
hotel and the neighboring camps may be sought 
with profit. Nature is sometimes wonderfully helped 
in the miracle of turning the consumptives watery 
blood to wine by the bright presence of kindred and 
friends. It may be, of course, impossible in all 
cases for the invalid to be thus attended, but com- 
panionship should be counted by no means an unim- 
portant element in the wilderness experiment. 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 63 

After all, the thing which is pretty sure to do most 
toward making the sick man contented is the con- 
sciousness that he is gaining health, even if it be by 
inches. To a greater degree than any other method 
of cure which the doctors have advocated this camp- 
ing-out tends to turn a man's thoughts away from his 
own condition. That is no small thing itself. One can- 
not live very long in St. Augustine or Santa Barbara, 
an invalid himself, without daily contact with those 
suffering from the same malady, and seeking the 
same end by precisely the same measures. That end 
has not been reached often enough to make the sub- 
ject an encouraging one for conversation. And yet 
a dozen invalids thrown together will inevitably turn 
to their ills as the one theme in which there is unan- 
imous interest. Still worse, on this account, is any 
regular sanitarium, where the constant society of 
those similarly afflicted must be, as it always has 
been, a serious drawback to recovery. In the wil- 
derness camp the patient is effectually removed from 
all these unfavorable conditions. Around and about 
him on every side, are the evidences of vigorous life. 
Life in the grand old pines, in the whispering poplar, 
in the tough -fibred tamarack ; life in the tapping of 
the woodpecker, in the drum of the partridge, in 
the whistle of the robin ; life in the startled deer, as 
it leaps affrighted into the dense underbrush, and in 
the squirrel as he springs nimbly from branch to 
branch ; life in the placid lakes and laughing stream, 
in the fresh breezes that blow across the land, in sky 
and earth and water — everywhere life. And so the 



61 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

shadow of the great destroyer is swallowed up in 
the sunlight and beauty and grandeur of nature. 

Then, too, this isolation which the camp affords is 
not allied to that sense of loneliness which attends 
the invalid who seeks more remote resorts. I ad- 
dress myself now, of course, to those who live in the 
Eastern and Middle States, for from this vast region 
thousands of health-seekers have gone forth in the 
past, journeying to far-away places, nor ever bethink- 
ing them of the rare virtues of this forest which 
lies, as it were, at their doors. Probably every phy- 
sician of much experience has had occasion to note 
the ill effects which frequently attend this removal 
from home and friends. There is a kind of heart 
yearning — call it homesickness, if you please — -which 
takes hold of a sick man banished to unfamiliar pla- 
ces, too strong to be resisted. Now, while an Adi- 
rondack camp may seem cut off from the busy world 
as completely as a South Pacific island, yet the inva- 
lid knows that in fact he is not very far away from 
his home. He knows that the journey back is no 
very great undertaking. In short, he knows that he 
can put an end to his voluntary banishment to-mor- 
row, if he chooses. And that gives him courage to 
remain to-day. So far as the writer's own case is 
concerned, this sense of freedom to do as he pleased 
went a good way toward making camp life endurable. 

Even a more important consideration than that of 
contentment, is the relative cost of the wilderness 
cure as compared with that of living in the places 
winch have heretofore been regarded as the consump- 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 65 

tive's hope. This matter of money has nothing to 
do with the theory of therapeutic measures, but, un- 
fortunately, it has a great deal to do with the prac- 
tice of them. Man is presumed to value his life 
beyond any worldly possession. To the hard alter- 
native of surrendering a remunerative position and 
expending his last dollar, or yielding up his life, a 
vast majority of mankind would unhesitatingly ac- 
cept the former. But what is one to do if he has 
no treasure to give in lieu of his life ? What is the 
clerk, dependent on his meagre wages, to answer 
when the physician tells him that he must go to the 
South of France or Lower California, if he does not 
want to die within six months ? As well recommend 
him to go to the moon ; and the more certain the be- 
lief that the impossible trip would restore him to 
health and strength, the more bitter his cup 3 as he 
reflects on the utter inability of any man to reach 
the moon. But even the clerk can reach this wilder- 
ness and pitch his tent, and try the experiment which 
may give him a new lease of life. 

If the camp life of the invalid is monotonous, it 
is not, as has already been indicated, a life of either 
privation or hardship. The sick man gets up in the 
morning when he feels like it — say nine o'clock. He 
finds at hand all the conveniences for making a toilet, 
and when he steps from the tent into the crisp, fresh 
air, he ought to be hungry and thankful. A breakfast, 
as good as any man can reasonably expect, is ready, 
steaming hot. Excellent butter, smoking muffins, fra- 
grant coffee, and eggs which no man ever saw longer 



QG THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

ago than yesterday; a dish of dainty trout, now 
crisply fried in cracker-crumbs, but two hours ago 
jumping at flies in the water ; baked or fried pota- 
toes, with a leaf of fresh salad ; milk that produces 
more cream to the square inch than the city-restau- 
rant fluid does to the acre ; and with all this, the 
inevitable wheat-cake, hot from the griddle, served 
with a generous supply of maple-syrup. It is well 
on to ten o'clock when the breakfast is over. Then, 
if the day be warm and fair, the camper-out may 
lounge under the trees and read the daily papers — a 
day or two old, to be sure, but fresh enough up here. 
Or he may take a turn on the lake, and try his hand 
at fishing. Somewhere about one o'clock he is ex- 
pected to grapple with a lunch of cold beef or chicken 
or mutton, bread and butter, milk, fruit, and cake. 
Then he may sleep or read or write or philosophize, 
or wander off to explore the surrounding forests — 
do anything, in short, that his fancy dictates. At 
six o'clock he sits down to a dinner which, if not rel- 
ished, will be the fault of the eater only. Roast veni- 
son or lamb, green corn, tomatoes, potatoes, cucum- 
bers, squash and beets, with a tempting entree or 
two, in the shape of frogs' legs or game, salad, and a 
blueberry pudding, not lacking the brandy-sauce — ■ 
there is his menu. After that a cigar and an hour 
about a roaring camp-fire ; or, later in the season, a 
fire within the tent, the canvas flaps cozily drawn, 
the student-lamp lighted, a good book, or a game at 
chess, backgammon or cards at his preference. Then 
bed. 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 67 

The domestic economy of the camp is generally in- 
trusted to the guide ; and, if he be the right sort of 
a man, this method saves considerable trouble. If, 
however, a more direct supervision of affairs becomes 
desirable, there is no reason why it cannot be exer- 
cised. Supposing the camp to contain but two per- 
sons, the invalid and his companion, and supposing, 
further, that the money question cannot be eliminated 
from the wilderness experiment, then one competent 
guide should be counted as sufficient for all the work, 
for the daily routine labors in a permanent camp 
are neither very burdensome nor very numerous. 
The chief difficulty is to find a really good man who 
takes kindly to this sort of life. Yery many of them 
prefer the much harder task of " guiding " proper, 
with its attendant excitement and nomadic charm. 
And perhaps this is not to be wondered at ; for their 
lives are monotonous enough through the greater por- 
tion of the year to make them keenly appreciative of 
the company of pleasure-seeking sportsmen. Then, 
too, many of them feel, and rightly, that they are 
capable of something better than washing dishes and 
making beds. There is, indeed; no reason why the 
ordinary work of the invalid's camp should not be 
performed by a woman. The duties would not be 
unlike those of the average hired girl, in the average 
city house. To cook the food would be her chief 
task. Add to the woman a strong, active boy to 
chop wood, draw water, and run errands, and the 
domestic machinery of a camp could certainly be 
kept in harmonious motion. ]STot that the services 



68 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

of a guide are not desirable always, and indispensa- 
ble where the invalid intends to devote himself to 
hunting or fishing ; but the suggestion is made for 
the benefit of those who may care nothing for the 
latter pursuits, and who are compelled to economize 
in order to make the experiment at all. 

Depending largely upon the hotel for supplies, as 
most of the permanent camps do, it is customary to 
send over daily for the mail, and such stores as may 
be needed. This regular receiving of the mail marks 
a bright hour in the day. The incentive of getting 
it may also lead the patient, when his strength shall 
have so far returned as to warrant it, to walk over 
to the hotel, and thus get an hour's tramp equally 
pleasant and beneficial. 

Although the experiment has never, I believe, 
been made, there is certainly no reason why a per- 
son desiring to avoid the delay or trouble of fitting 
up a camp, might not pitch a tent in the woods sur- 
rounding " Paul " Smith's, and take his meals at the 
hotel, while sleeping under canvas. This would give 
him the benefit of the great end sought — the con- 
stant breathing in of pure air — and at the same time 
it would assure him an excellent table. It would 
hardly do to recommend the plan on the score of 
economy, however, as it would probably prove more 
expensive than the full-fledged camp. 

Nobody should attempt a prolonged residence in this 
wilderness without that steadfast friend and faithful 
companion — a dog. The Adirondack spaniel, which 
is, perhaps, the most common breed here, is pos- 



CAMP LIFE AS AN INVALID FINDS IT. 69 

sessed of a degree of intelligence, docility, and good 
nature which raise him to the rank of the princes of 
his kind. He is not often pretty to the eye, nor would 
he, as a rule, pass muster under the close scrutiny of a 
dog-fancier ; but if not pretty, he is good, and if 
lacking in " points," he is rich in affection. lie takes 
to partridges as naturally as the terrier to rats, and 
he develops often into an acute and sagacious hunter. 
His unvarying mildness is perhaps due, in part, to 
his diet — -for the Adirondack dog gets very little 
meat. There is also the deer-hound, excellent in his 
special line of work, but less companionable than the 
spaniel. Many an hour which would otherwise drag 
wearily in camp, may be pleasantly passed in canine 
company. Your dog never burdens you with long 
stories or impertinent inquiries. He never has a sure 
cure for your cough, which he insists upon your try- 
ing. He is never moody nor out of sorts, nor averse 
to a frolic. In short, he is tip-top company for a 
sick man. 

The camp may also afford refuge for live chickens, 
and it might even be practicable to keep a cow. Dr. 
Trudeau has a high opinion of the nutritive qualities 
of milk, and has accustomed himself to take eight or 
ten glasses through the day. 

Altogether the camp life of the invalid ought to 
be made as bright, as cheerful, and as comfortable 
as the circumstances of the place will admit. If 
sometimes the days drag monotonously — and they 
will — let it be kept steadily in mind that if the ex- 
periment is worth making at all, it is worth making 



70 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

well and thoroughly. And if weeks, and even months, 
should pass, bringing little of that restored strength 
which was promised, then let this solacing reflection 
arise, that in nearly every instance where the case 
has been serious, the patient has been called upon 
thus similarly to put his faith to the test, but that in 
the end the wilderness has wrought a cure which has 
sometimes seemed little less than a miracle. 



CHAPTER VII. 

WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The proposition to spend a winter in the Adiron- 
dack wilderness, when first made to a consumptive 
invalid, shivering even in the May temperature of 
]STew York City, seemed grotesquely absurd. Most of 
us have long been taught to look upon mild climate 
as a prime requisite in the cure of weak lungs. To ac- 
cept, in place of this orthodox creed, one diametri- 
cally opposed thereto, and to voluntarily go in search 
of what heretofore we had conscientiously run away 
from, was like stumbling upon a new Galileo, with a 
new dogma to shake fixed faith and disarrange the 
stars themselves. 

And yet this experiment of sending pulmonary 
patients to winter in a cold region is by no means 
new or untried. The virtues of the Alps in this mat- 
ter have been put to the test for many years, and 
with results that abundantly justify the theory. In 
an untechnical, but interesting, paper, published some 
two or three years ago in the Fortnightly Review, 
and entitled "Davos in Winter," many facts are 
given which bear so directly on the subject in hand, 
that I may be pardoned for reproducing some brief 



72 THE WILDERNESS CUEE. 

extracts therefrom. The writer tells us that a German 
physician of repute, himself far gone in consumption, 
determined in 1865 to try whether high Alpine air 
was really a cure for serious lung disease. In spite 
of having to rough it more than invalids find safe 
and pleasant, the doctor derived so much benefit from 
his first visit that he persevered and ultimately re- 
covered his health. The result is that Doctor Unger 
and his fellow- workers have transformed Davos from 
a mere mountain village into a health-station fre- 
quented by nearly one thousand invalids who passed 
the winter with every comfort of good accommoda- 
tion, excellent food, and not a few amusements. 
Continuing, the writer in the IZevieio says : " The 
method of cure is very simple. After a minute per- 
sonal examination of the ordinary kind, your phy- 
sician tells you to give up medicines, and to sit warmly 
clothed in the sun as long as it is shining, to eat as 
much as possible, to drink a fair quantity of Valtel- 
line wine, and not to take any exercise. He comes 
at first to see you every day, and soon forms a more 
definite opinion of your capacity and constitution. 
Then, little by little, he allows you to walk ; at first 
upon the level, next up-hill, until the daily walks 
begin to occupy from four to ~Q.ve hours. The one 
thing relied upon is air. To inhale the maximum 
quantity of the pure mountain air, and to imbibe the 
maximum quantity of the keen mountain sunlight, 
is the sine qica non. Every thing else — milk-drink- 
ing, douches, baths, friction, counter-irritant appli- 
cations, and so forth — is subsidiary. Medicine is very 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 16 

rarely used ; and yet the physicians are not pedan- 
tic in their dislike of drugs. They only find by long 
experience that they can get on better without medi- 
cine. Therefore they do not use it except in cases 
where their observation shows that it is needed. And 
certainly they are justified by the result. The worst 
symptoms of pulmonary sickness — fever, restless 
nights, cough, blood-spitting, and expectoration — 
gradually subside by merely living and breathing. 
The appetite returns, and the power of taking exer- 
cise is wonderfully increased. When I came to Da- 
vos, for example, at the beginning of last August, I 
could not climb two pairs of stairs without the great- 
est discomfort. At the end of September I was able 
to walk one thousand feet up hill without pain and 
without fear of hemorrhage. This progress was main- 
tained throughout the winter ; and when I left Davos, 
in April, the physician could confirm my own sensa- 
tion that the lung, which had been seriously injured, 
was comparatively sound again, and that its wound 
had been healed. Of course I do not mean that the 
impossible had been achieved, or, in other words, 
that what had ceased to be organic had been recom- 
posed for me, but that the disease had been arrested 
by a natural process of contraction." 

All that the writer here claims for the little Alpine 
village may be applied with equal force to the St. 
llegis country. If the elevation of the latter is much 
less than that of the former, the purity of the atmos- 
phere, the abundance of sunlight, the complete ab- 
sence of anything like dampness, and the almost 
4 



74 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

magical results of the climate, are all as characteristic 
of the Adirondack wilderness as of Davos. Here, as 
there, the worst symptoms of pulmonary complaints 
subside by merely living and breathing. Here, as 
there, the appetite returns, and the progress of the 
disease is arrested. But, whereas in Davos, the pa- 
tient finds himself forced to combat the evil in- 
fluences attending a sanitarium, to which reference 
has already been made in these pages, in the wilder- 
ness he may utterly avoid contact with people af- 
flicted like himself; and, whereas, to a thousand 
Americans upon whom consumption has laid its 
skeleton hand, the long journey to the Alps would be 
as impossible as a tour around the world, this experi- 
ment of the wilderness may be made — and made with 
small outlay and little discomfort. So I hope it will 
not be charged to the overenthusiasm of the writer 
if he claims even greater virtues for the Adirondacks 
than others may for Davos. 

Dividing the year" into the two seasons of camp 
life and house life, the former, although necessarily 
varying somewhat in length, may be set down as 
covering at its maximum five months. It will very 
seldom be found safe to get into camp before the 
first of June ; nor is it, as a rule, desirable to remain 
later than the middle of October. These remaining 
seven months, then, constitute the winter season in 
the wilderness — that is, the season of house life. By 
this phrase, however, is not meant a life of indoor 
indolence. In winter, not less than summer, the 
great end sought after is to breathe all the pure air 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 75 

possible, and to keep out-of-doors as much of the 
time as the condition of the patient. warrants. 

Saranac Lake, which is something of a town for 
the backwoods, and which lies on the Saranac River, 
about thirteen miles from "Paul" Smith's, and six 
from Bloomingdale, has heretofore been the point 
to which invalids remaining through the winter 
have turned most often. It may be explained that 
Saranac Lake is here applied not to the body of 
water bearing that name, but to the post-office ; and 
the post-office, with the aid of weak lungs, has re- 
sulted in building up a diminutive village. A few 
of the winter health-seekers have remained at the St. 
Regis Lake House, whenever that comfortable inn 
has been kept open. During the past winter the 
house was closed to boarders. This sent the majority 
of invalids to Saranac. The writer, for reasons 
which will hereafter be explained, preferred to take 
up his abode in the town of Brighton, Franklin 
County, on the main road which leads from Bloom- 
ingdale to " Paul " Smith's. So far as the climatic 
benefits are concerned, it is really a matter of no 
consequence whether the invalid spends the winter 
at St. Regis Lake, Bloomingdale, or Saranac. I 
should not presume to make this statement except on 
the authority of a physician who has passed a num- 
ber of winters in the immediate neighborhood re- 
ferred to, and whose opinion is entitled to the high- 
est respect. 

To those who depend largely upon society for re- 
creation, and who are without other resources of con- 



76 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

tentment, Saranac Lake may be recommended as tlie 
most desirable spot in which, to pass the winter. 
Not that the village offers other than a very mild 
type of excitement, but in the backwoods we must 
measure attractions in a liberal spirit. By chance, 
or otherwise, Dr. Trudeau hit upon the village as the 
place for spending his first winter in the wilderness, 
and since that time many others have followed his 
example. The result is that a comfortable boarding- 
house, known as the Berkley, has been fitted up with 
a special view to the accommodation of invalids. 
There are also a number of smaller houses where 
good board may be obtained at reasonable rates. 
The Saranac Lake House, called by everybody here 
Martin's, stands at the northern extremity of the lit- 
tle lake of the same name, a mile or so from the vil- 
lage. Next to " Paul " Smith's, Martin's is perhaps 
the best-known inn anywhere in the wilderness. It 
has not, I believe, heretofore been kept open through 
the winter, but board could probably be obtained there 
if one chose to apply for it. Saranac gets its daily 
mail, enjoys telegraphic communication, and is con- 
nected by stage with Elizabethtown, as well as Au- 
sable Forks. Besides these advantages, a sufficient 
number of health-seekers were to be found there last 
winter to constitute a little social coterie. There is an 
Episcopal church, regularly supplied with a clergy- 
man, while the Methodists worship in the school- 
house. The post-office holds its treasures in a store, 
where letters and groceries are meted out together. 
What to others would perhaps seem an attraction, 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 77 

to the writer appeared as the one drawback in con- 
nection with Saranac. It was to rid himself of the 
companionship of other invalids, agreeable as that 
companionship might be, invalidism apart, that he 
avoided the place of more common resort, and found 
a winter home with a farmer-guide in Brighton. 

If the camp life of an invalid is of necessity some- 
what monotonous, his winter life in these woods must 
be even more so. And yet there is so much to com- 
pensate for the self-imposed exile, that the winter, to 
my thinking, is fraught with greater charms than the 
summer. Others, I know, will not agree with me in 
this respect ; but all who make the experiment will 
surely discover that wintering in the wilderness is a 
far pleasanter process of cure than they pictured it 
in fancy. A measure of monotony is conceded ; but 
monotony is productive of a methodical manner of 
life — of regularity of habits which the doctors praise 
and all the sage saws of the world seek to inculcate. 
I am forced to admit that the first winter I spent in 
the Adirondacks failed miserably to sustain its repu- 
tation for evenness of temperature and extreme cold. 
This, however, must be attributed to the exceptional 
character of that season the country over. As a rule, 
the winter months here will be found dry, bracing, 
and remarkably free from thaws. As a rule, also, to 
which the winter of 1879-80 afforded a striking ex- 
ception, snow falls in great abundance, and three or 
four months of continuous sleighing are counted upon 
with certainty. In spite of its unusual mildness, the 
winter we spent in the woods serves to illustrate 



78 THE WILDEKNESS OUEE. 

what the cold season in the Adirondacks can do to- 
ward strengthening weak lungs. 

It was early enough, certainly, when the wilderness 
first put on its winter robes. We broke camp in a 
snow-storm on November 3d, and the backwoods sov- 
ereigns, who were called upon the next day to exer- 
cise their glorious right of suffrage, drove to the polls 
in cutters and bob-sleds. But this premature prom- 
ise of winter's arrival had melted completely away, 
even before the hopes of many a beaten candidate 
were extinguished in his heart. November gave us 
scarcely a taste after that of genuine winter. Through- 
out December there were some bright, clear days 
scattered at intervals ; in January we saw the ther- 
mometer once or twice mark a temperature of twen- 
ty-five degrees below zero, although the month, as a 
whole, was unreasonably warm ; while in February, 
bringing, as it did, more snow than the resident of New 
York City is likely often to see, there were times when 
the mercury got up to preposterously high figures, 
standing in the sun, once at least, above sixty. Thaws 
were unpleasantly frequent, and although taken as a 
whole, there were many days of excellent sleighing, 
this was so often interrupted that a carriage was more 
serviceable on many occasions than a sleigh. Still, 
in spite of these unexpected drawbacks, the climate 
continued to work an improvement in the writer's 
condition. Neither did the sudden and often extreme 
changes in the temperature produce any of those ill 
effects which almost invariably follow in other re- 
gions. "With a jump of the mercury from twenty- 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 79 

five degrees below zero to fifty degrees above, in 
twenty-four hours' time, exposure to the out-of-door 
air was attended with no bad results. The capacity 
of the soil to absorb all surface moisture, even in 
midwinter, is certainly astonishing. The atmosphere, 
too, seems absolutely free from dampness, even while 
the snow is melting under one's feet. In short, if 
steady and decided improvement could be made un- 
der the exceptionally unfavorable conditions of the 
winter in question, then ordinarily the cold season in 
the Adirondacks must prove highly beneficial to weak 
lungs. 

In sketching briefly the manner of life here in 
winter, the writer must draw chiefly upon his own 
experience. If others, like him, should regard it as 
desirable to search out a private boarding-place, it 
will be by no means difficult to accomplish that end. 
Along the main road, between Bloomingdale and St. 
Regis Lake, are scattered numerous farm-houses, in 
almost any one of which comfortable accommodation 
could probably be had. The village of Blooming- 
dale itself contains a good-sized inn and several 
dwellings of more pretentious appearance than those 
on the road. There are two or three stores in the 
place, a telegraph station, post-office, public school, 
and church. Certain advantages are gained if one 
prefers the seclusion of a private house by living on 
the stage road, although pleasant quarters can, no 
doubt, be found in many of the more remote houses. 
If the means of recreation through the winter months 
are limited, they may still serve to prevent the time 



80 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

from hanging heavily on the invalid's hands. In the 
bright, clear, sunshiny days — and a good many of 
these may be counted upon in the course of the sea- 
son — it will be the first duty of the patient to keep 
as much out of doors as is practicable. If his strength 
justifies him in taking moderate bodily exercise, lie 
may walk over the roads with a scene before his 
eyes grander than was ever yet put on canvas ; or he 
may strike across lots through the woods on a pair of 
snow-shoes, which barbarous contrivances are here 
indicative of civilization ; or he may hunt rabbits ; 
and if he knows how to use his gun, he may be sure 
of plenty of this lively gan^e. Should he be still too 
weak to safely indulge in these more violent exer- 
cises, he may ride out instead, and thereby secure 
to himself the benefit of the bracing air without 
the slightest fear of taking cold. The majority of 
the year-round inhabitants own horses, and it is not 
therefore difficult to obtain some sort of turnout. 
The writer found riding a more congenial form of 
exercise than any other, and made it a point to go 
out at least once a day, except in extremely stormy 
weather. It may not be out of place in this connec- 
tion to recommend the purchase of a buffalo-skin 
overcoat as by far the most suitable garment for 
winter wear in the wilderness. These coats are in- 
expensive, durable, and the only things that have 
been discovered warm enough to protect a person 
riding against the cutting winds that sweep across 
this country. 

It may not fall to the lot of all others to secure so 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 81 

home-like and comfortable a boarding-place as did 
the writer, but it is safe to say that the health-seeker 
will be well provided for in his wilderness abode. 
In the matter of food, the resources of the country 
are naturally less rich in winter than summer. After 
the first of December few if any trout are taken, 
nor should there be. The period in which deer may 
legally be killed expires now in this State the first of 
December, I believe. At all events, venison is a 
pretty juiceless meat in midwinter, and very little of 
it is offered for sale in the St. Regis region. Par- 
tridges string along until January, but they lose in 
plumpness and flavor, and are by no means abundant. 
Cutting off thus trout, deer, and birds, the domestic 
menu of the woods reduces itself chiefly to pork and 
potatoes. This diet hardly meets the wants of the 
consumptive patient, but he will find that those who 
make a business of taking boarders will not expect 
3iim to subsist thereon. Our own table, which was set 
distinct from that of the household, was liberally sup- 
plied with beef, mutton, chickens, winter and canned 
vegetables, eggs, excellent bread, fresh butter, and 
milk. It is pleasant to speak in praise of the cook- 
ing of the Adirondack housewife, and if the expe- 
rience of others coincides with the writer's, such 
praise will be happily justified. One thing, how- 
ever, cannot share in the smallest measure in this 
otherwise complimentary report. If there be any- 
thing poorer in the way of meat than the average 
Adirondack beef, then most of us, I hope, have yet 
to discover it. It is tough, dry, and tasteless. If it 



82 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

has any mission in the world, it is to teach resigna- 
tion, while it strengthens the muscles of the jaw. 
This unvarnished truth applies equally to all beef 
raised and slaughtered here. Even at the best of 
the hotels the best of their beef would surely be 
criticized in a fifteen-cent city restaurant. The fault 
is in the country, rather than in the people ; and the 
deficiency can only be supplied by having good beef 
sent on from some point where good beef is to be 
had. I speak thus particularly of this matter be- 
cause of the large dependence which the physicians 
place upon nourishing beef in the diet of the con- 
sumptive patient. For any other delicacies it will 
also be necessary to look to the city markets ; but 
barring the beef, a wholesome and nutritious diet 
will be found in the winter boarding-house. 

With pleasant indoor accommodations, an excel- 
lent table, a daily drive of two or three hours, an 
occasional jaunt on foot, plenty of books and news- 
papers, and the cheering consciousness of steady 
progress toward recovery, the winter life of the in- 
valid in this remote wilderness may, after all, be 
counted an endurable one. If the first week or two 
after the breaking-up of camp should be followed by 
some return of the bad symptoms, it need cause no 
alarm. As a rule, after sleeping three or four 
months in a tent, any room, however well ventilated, 
will seem close and stifling. The lungs, long accus- 
tomed to the absolute purity of the tent air, become 
acutely sensitive to whatever is vitiated or foul. As 
a matter of fact, the atmosphere of a well-lighted, 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 83 

properly ventilated room in one of these wilderness 
houses is incomparably purer than the most imposing 
apartment in the finest city residence. While, there- 
fore, the change from the tent to the bedroom may 
here be accompanied with some unpleasant effects, it 
is quite certain that this change will be far less per- 
ceptible than would the sudden transition from the 
wilderness house to the city home. 

Among the writer's friends who shook their heads 
ominously over the idea of sending a sick man into 
the bleak woods to pass a winter, it was a common 
argument that if a person was compelled to spend 
the greater portion of the time in-doors, why not re- 
main at home where in-door life would certainly be 
more attractive ? These kindly advisers forget that 
the air within doors can never be purer than that 
outside. It may, and perhaps of necessity must, be 
less pure. If, then, the air is bad without, it will be 
the same air made worse within ; while if pure with- 
out, it will be by so much the purer in-doors. In a 
word, there is no special atmosphere manufactured 
for house use. Shut up in a room in Water street, 
a person must breathe Water street air ; housed in 
the wilderness, he still inhales none other than wil- 
derness air. And with no noxious odors, no defec- 
tive drains or gas-pipes, no miserable furnaces, no 
double windows to shut out the oxygen — with none 
of these abominations, but in place thereof, cheery 
wood-fires, open chimney-places, and a surrounding 
atmosphere of absolute purity, it must be admitted 
that in-door life in the Adirondacks gives the lungs 



84 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

something very different from the air of the average 
city house. 

The wilderness winter, as a rule, lingers so long 
in the lap of spring that he leaves very little of the 
calendar to be reigned over by the balmier season. 
Often the sleighing stretches far into April, and the 
ice in the lakes has been known to remain until the 
10th of May. This makes June very like a Long 
Island April. Happily, however, the transition from 
winter to spring is attended with very few, if any, of 
those sudden changes which are apt to prove so try- 
ing to weak lungs in places like New York and Bos- 
ton. And this adds another to the many virtues of 
the Adirondack region, the more conspicuous because 
it is possessed by so few of the health resorts. Even 
our Davos enthusiast admits that the Alpine village 
should be deserted by the invalid with the first ap- 
proach of spring. Here, all seasons seem to afford 
more or less benefit to the consumptive. Pie is not 
forced to fly at the approach of spring or to inter- 
rupt the slow processes of nature with the coming of 
the winter. To all who may be induced to try the 
wilderness experiment, the writer would say, and say 
most earnestly, that the winter residence is quite as 
essential as the camp life through the warmer months. 
Even if the latter fails to accomplish any perceptible 
good in the patient's condition, let him still hold fast 
to his faith in the cold-weather theory. The danger 
is, that either discouraged at the absence of the re- 
sults expected, or, in more fortunate cases, made too 
confident by a speedy progress toward recovery, the 



WINTERING IN THE WILDERNESS. 85 

invalid yields to a natural desire to return to home 
and kindred or to those pursuits which he fancies he 
is strong enough to follow, and so puts an end to the 
experiment before he has given it half a trial. An 
active, energetic man may look upon a year's banish- 
ment from the field of his labors as too hard a sen- 
tence ; but a shorter sojourn than that, where pul- 
monary disease has taken any firm hold on its victim, 
will fail to give the wilderness cure a reasonable test- 
It must be winter as well as summer — perhaps two 
or three winters and two or three summers. A long 
game — but the stakes are high. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

THE YEAR-ROUND INHABITANTS. 

Mr. Richard Grant White has somewhere put 
on record that, to his thinking, " there is nothing in 
the world more charming than simple, unpretending 
ignorance, nothing more respectable, nothing surer 
to elicit sympathy from healthy minds." If this use 
of words be not an abuse, then to find what is su- 
premely charming, overwhelmingly respectable, and 
superlatively deserving of sympathy Mr. White and 
the rest of the world should come up here and min- 
gle with the native inhabitants. 

To the year-round resident of the wilderness the 
world is bounded by Canada on the north, Platts- 
burg on the east, Boonville on the south, and Ma- 
lone on the west. All that lies beyond this clearly 
defined territory is dim, shadowy, and uncertain. 
The end and aim of life is to " guide " in summer, 
and " log " in winter. Nowhere else on the face of 
the earth is it so easy to divide all people into classes 
at once so distinct and comprehensive. Every man 
must come under one of the two heads — he must be 
either a guide or a sportsman. For the qualifications 
of the latter, anything like previous training is un- 



THE YEAR-KOTTND INHABITANTS. 87 

necessary. The writer freely confesses that before he 
came into the St. Regis country he had never to his 
knowledge, shot off a gun in his life, except possibly 
the air-guns that are sometimes made a tributary 
means of revenue in church fairs ; he had never cast 
a fly, nor jointed a rod, nor told a fish story — inten- 
tionally, at any rate — he had never seen a deer save 
those in Central Park, while the few " strikes " he 
ever made on speckled trout were confined exclu- 
sively to Fulton Market. And yet — the assertion is 
made with a full sense of the responsibility that may 
hereafter attach thereto — and yet he was not fairly 
in the wilderness before he made the startling dis- 
covery that he was a "sportsman." So much for 
one of the grand divisions of mankind as found in 
the St. Regis country. The other is far more unique 
and interesting. 

To begin with, the nationality of these backwoods- 
men is a mixed problem. French blood mingles in 
at least equal proportions with American, and proba- 
bly nine-tenths of all the people are descended more 
or less directly from Canadian ancestors. The French 
of Canada is not exactly the French of Paris, but it 
may be said to bear about the same relation to the 
latter that the sardine does to the herring. Ichthyo- 
logists classify these fishes under the same family 
head, but it is not very difficult to distinguish be- 
tween them. Here in the immediate St. Regis Lake 
region a large proportion of the inhabitants speak 
Canadian French with at least as much facility as 
they speak English. The vastness of the country, 



OO THE WILDERNESS CUEE. 

as compared with the population, has led to such a 
complex intermarrying that pretty nearly everybody 
is either the aunt or uncle or cousin of everybody 
else. If the soil yields but a sorry harvest of grain, 
it seems at least adapted to the production of large 
families. A dozen children and sometimes a score 
grow to robust maturity in spite of all hardship and 
privation. That the life of these people is a hard 
one — that the privations they are called upon to en- 
dure are such as would drive away a less hardy or 
stubborn race — is not to be denied. The few acres 
of land that have been cleared and cultivated return 
at best but a meagre harvest for the most unremit- 
ting toil. Through the long winter the one industry 
which offers employment is the chopping and draw- 
ing of logs. Many a man is glad to swing an axe 
ten hours out of the twenty-four for seventy-five cents 
wages. Ready money is always scarce and always 
hoarded. Young and old live principally on pork 
and potatoes, with now and then a soup of dry beans 
or peas. Sheep thrive here fairly well, but the mut- 
ton is, as a rule, regarded too valuable a product to 
be used for food. The wife of the backwoodsman 
works even more untiringly than her husband, and in 
the absence of the latter often does unaided the 
drudgery which should be assigned only to men. 

But there comes a genial ray of sunlight into the 
wilderness with the advent of the sportsmen. It is 
then that every man and boy is ready to offer his 
services as a guide. The guide does not grow. He 
bears a striking resemblance to the city barber in 



THE YEAR-ROUND INHABITANTS. 89 

that he never serves an apprenticeship. The world, 
or at least as much of it as is shaved, long ago dis- 
covered that the barber-shop never existed which 
employed other than experienced " artists." It fol- 
lows, therefore, that the barber, full-fledged, springs 
up in the night or else drops from the skies, razor in 
hand, and the praises of the best hair tonic in the 
world on his lips. Similarly comes the Adirondack 
guide into this barren world. He rolls, so to speak, 
out of his log cradle into a pair of top boots, dis- 
cards the bottle for a plug of tobacco, possesses 
himself of a boat and a jackknife, and becomes 
forthwith an experienced guide. His duties are 
multifarious. He pulls a steady if not exactly scien- 
tific oar ; he carries his boat on his shoulders from 
one mountain pond to another, often a distance of 
two or three miles ; he conducts you to the spot 
where deer ought to be, and where sometimes they 
are ; he fishes for you if you don't know how to fish 
for yourself, and breaks your new fly-rod with per- 
fect good humor; if in camp, he cooks and chops 
wood and forecasts the weather with an unvarying 
inaccuracy which would discourage the most hopeful 
of meteorological prophets. It would never do to 
assert that the Adirondack guide is constitutionally 
lazy after thus particularizing his labors. True, he is 
forced to drag through seven or eight months of the 
year in waiting for the other four or five months to 
come around ; but that is not his fault. Nor is this 
period of waiting by any means one of idle ease. 
The winter work is far more laborious and much 



90 THE WILDEENESS CTJEE. 

less profitable than the summer guiding. Many of 
the men spend a good part of the cold season in a 
logger's camp, as it is called, and that is a kind of 
camp which offers very few attractions. It implies 
steady chopping from sunrise to sunset, exposure to 
the coldest weather, coarse fare, small wages, and no 
pleasanter recreation than a pipeful of tobacco in the 
evening. Harder even than the cutting, ' c skidding" 
(which means piling), or drawing of logs, is the driv- 
ing of them down the rivers in the spring. The 
drivers are often drenched with water or half frozen 
by cold ; and they run no inconsiderable risk of los- 
ing life or limb. The work pays better, however, 
than any other branch of the lumberman's calling. 

Besides the severity of the winter work here, 
there is frequently no job to be had even at the 
small wages demanded. Last winter, for example, 
the lack of sleighing, without which the drawing of 
logs cannot be undertaken, shut out many men from 
the chance of earning a few needed dollars. Were 
it not that the cost of living is reduced to its mini- 
mum, the less thrifty inhabitants would be driven to 
sorry straits. Many of them are poor enough, as it 
is ; but there is none of that acute suffering from 
poverty which is to be found in the cities. Oddly 
enough, the want of money here, while it may en- 
hance its value as a personal possession, seems to give 
to the native a supreme indifference for the wealth of 
others. This wealth may have its existence wholly 
in the imagination, as much of it indeed does ; but 
that is of small matter so long as the stock of imag- 



THE YEAR-ROUND INHABITANTS. 91 

ination holds out. The Adirondack guide, whose 
uncertain income seldom reaches five hundred dollars 
a year, will talk to you of millions with the refresh- 
ing assurance of Colonel Sellers. He sets every man 
down as rich who comes into the wilderness unpur- 
sued by a deputy-sheriff. He believes that eveiy 
man is a sportsman because he is rich, and that he is 
rich because he is a sportsman, and that he is both 
because he is not a St. Regis guide. There you have 
the pith of backwoods logic in a nutshell. 

The crossing of nationalities — the uncommon con- 
genital mixture of a French peasant and a Yankee 
backwoodsman — gives rise to some curious combina- 
tions in names. You may find the thoroughly Anglo- 
Saxon James, John, and Henry, flanked by such sur- 
names as St. Germain, La Bountie and Bobal. Y T ou 
may have your faith in philology sadly shaken by the 
discovery that Mitchell Sweeney is a Frenchman, and 
that Mrs. Stephen Otis cannot speak English. It is 
a noteworthy fact that almost without exception the 
French residents give no hint of their nationality in 
speaking English. It may not be very pure English, 
but it is certainly freer from provincialisms and infi- 
nitely better in its pronunciation than is the speech 
of the average rural New Englander. 

This wilderness must be set down as a spot which 
puts greatness to a terribly severe test, and extin- 
guishes notoriety with a beautiful simplicity. Edison's 
name is unknown, and the thrifty housewife who 
told me that she thought she remembered vaguely 
of having once heard of Henry "Ward Beecher, 



92 THE WILDEENESS CUEE. 

compelled an indescribable admiration. The late 
Yice-President of the United States secure his claim 
to recognition, not because of the office he held, but 
because he lived in Malone. John Brown is not here 
the martyr to a great cause, but the man who bought 
a big tract of land in North Elba. I remember, at 
the time when the tempest-tossed bones of the late 
A. T. Stewart were rattled afresh in the public ears, 
Joshua La Fontaine came over to camp one day on a 
friendly visit. We fell to talking together, and I 
drew out some curious confessions from Joshua. He 
had lived the thirty-five years of his life wholly in 
the woods. He had never visited a city, nor even 
a village ; never had ridden on a railway, nor seen a 
steam engine ; never had been to a circus nor to 
school ; was in doubt as to whether Plattsburg was 
a bigger place than New York ; and was profoundly 
impressed by the statement that the earth is round 
and not flat. The mention of Plattsburg suggested 
the Stewart case for the double reason that, in the 
correspondence printed a few days before, that town 
had incidentally figured, and also because Plattsburg 
was reasonably to be considered within Joshua's geo- 
graphical grasp. 

" They seem to have found out where Stewart's 
body is, at last," said I, taking up the newspaper 
which contained the report. 

" Yer don't say so ? " said Joshua, evincing at 
once the keenest interest in the subject. 

" Yes ; and, according to the story here, it passed 
through Plattsburg on its way to Montreal." 



THE YEAR-ROUND INHABITANTS. 93 

"My land o' the livin', now, who'd a thought 
that?" rejoined Joshua, gazing meditatively at the 
back of his left hand while he worked the ringers as 
if to test their joints* 

"If what the paper says is true, Judge Hilton can 
get the remains by the payment of two hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars." 

" He ken, ken he ? "Wall, now, I'll be chewed ! " 

" Yes ; the thieves sent on the silver plate and 
the piece of coffin-lining that was cut out, so there 
can be no question about identity." 

" Jes'so ! And the Jedge ken git 'em for two 
hundred and fifty-thousand dollars ? " 

" That's the sum. Seems pretty big, doesn't it — 
but there's money enough back, you know." 

" Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars ! " repeat- 
ed Joshua, still studying with profound interest the 
back of his hand. " Wall, now, I'd never athought 
old Stewart left as much as that behind him ! " 

" Why, bless your soul, he left probably a hundred 
times that sum ! " 

" Old Jeems Stewart did ? " 

" Jeems ? His name wasn't Jeems — it was Alex- 
ander—A. T. Stewart," 

There was dead silence for half a minute, and then 
Joshua, finishing the inspection of his last knuckle, 
remarked : 

" I thought yer was talking about Jeems Stewart 
who bought that thar mill up at Keeseville. I guess 
I never beared of this other one — Alexander B., did 
you say ? " 



94 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

" T.," I murmured faintly. And there ended my 
effort to discuss affairs of the day with Joshua La 
Fontaine. 

Under this surface of calm indifference to all that 
is passing in the great world outside, there is a solid 
basis of content. Without this the Adirondack back- 
woodsman would be impossible. His ignorance, after 
all, is superficial; his wisdom is deep-rooted and 
practical. He may not be able to write his name, 
but he can read with unerring accuracy the chirog- 
raphy of nature. He may not know his letters, but 
he never trips on the alphabet of forest lore. He 
finds himself born to a lot of privation and hardship. 
Instead of repining over this, or vainly coveting the 
fortune of the more prosperous, he sets to work man- 
fully to make the best of his surroundings. In an 
exceptional degree he is thrifty, saving, and indus- 
trious. Not a few of the men in the St. Regis 
country have, by the dint of unflagging toil, amassed 
a competence. They recognize, apparently by some 
intuitive wisdom, that while the lines of their life 
here are not cast in easy places, still it is here that 
they can best fight the battle for bread. They have 
no desire to throw themselves into the vortex of city 
life, nor are they often led away by the ignis fatuus 
of the indefinite West. In this respect, and especially 
among the young men, the prevailing characteristic 
of the year-round inhabitant is peculiar. In almost 
every farming region, the dream of the younger gen- 
eration is to break loose from home moorings, and 
cast their fortune upon the untried sea of the world 



THE YEAR-ROUND INHABITANTS. 95 

outside. Here, on the contrary, this ambition for 
a larger field of action — this craving to see and know 
something of the busy world we inhabit — seems to 
be utterly lacking. If content be indeed another 
name for happiness, the dwellers in the wilderness 
ought to be supremely happy. The green earth over, 
there certainly could be found no better spot in which 
temporarily to plant a college sophomore or a rural 
Congressman. The small vanities and pretensions 
of a man will be taken out of him here with much 
the same jerky suddenness that a fish is taken out of 
the water. Tie may be great in a town, great in a 
State, great even in a nation ; he will be small as a 
midge here unless he can cast a scientific fly, or hit a 
buck at a hundred yards. 

Hard-working, truthful, sober, book-ignorant, na- 
ture-wise — this is the general character of these back- 
woods dwellers. And yet you cannot bunch these 
men and label them with any one ticket. Here, as 
elsewhere, the good and the bad may be found ; and 
under a crust of laziness and saleratus I have dis- 
covered many a brave, patient, and heroic nature — 
men like the trees they have grown up among, sturdy 
and upright as the grand old pine, yet as f nil of the 
juices of humanity as the maple is full of sap in 
spring. 



CHAPTER IX. 

DK. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 

To Prof essor Alfred L. Loomis, of New York City, 
belongs, in a very large degree, the honor of awaken- 
ing in the medical profession a lively interest in the 
curative powers of the Adirondacks. A paper of his 
on this subject was read before The Medical Society 
of the State of New York in 1879, and afterward 
printed in the Medical Record. That paper must 
stand as the excuse for this little book. Not only 
in New York, but all over the country, the doctors 
evinced a sudden enthusiasm respecting the Adi- 
rondacks that was obviously kindled by Dr. Loomis- s 
torch. Limited as is the writer's own circle of ac- 
quaintance, he has been besieged in his wilderness 
retreat by letters of inquiry from those seeking the 
facts this volume is designed to furnish. Among 
other things wanted was Dr. Loomis's paper. Ap- 
pearing as it did in a strictly technical journal, it 
could not, of course, reach the mass of unprofessional 
readers. That is why it has been thought well to in- 
clude it in this book. 

The writer hastens to add that the distinguished 
medical professor is not only not responsible for this 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 97 

republication of his essay, but he is ignorant even of 
its appropriation. Furthermore, the writer does not 
enjoy a personal acquaintance with Dr. Loomis. If 
he did, this public apology might not be called for. 
As it is, he sincerely hopes that the use of this ma- 
terial will not seem a misappropriation. 

The article is given entire. All attempts to con- 
dense or abbreviate a purely technical article, written 
by a physician, are usually worse than vain. They 
are apt to do the medical author a positive injury. 
This was abundantly proved in the only newspaper 
extract of Dr. Loomis's paper which the writer has 
seen. Apart from that, although designed for pro- 
fessional ears, there is not a word in Dr. Loomis's 
report which will not be read with keen interest by 
every sufferer from phthisical disease. 

Dr. Loomis's Address. 
Mr. President and Gentlemen of the State Medical 
Society: — I invite your attention to the Adirondack 
region as a therapeutical agent in the treatment of 
pulmonary phthisis. I have long been convinced that 
the most important factor in the successful manage- 
ment of pulmonary phthisis is to be found in climate. 
It seems to me that at the present time no subject of 
medical study is more deserving of attention than 
the climatic treatment of disease, yet to a student of 
the medical literature of to-day there is none more 
confusing and unsatisfactory. Some localities have 
been considered especially favorable on account of 
their equability of temperature, others on account of 
5 



98 THE WILDERNESS CTTKE. 

their luxurious vegetation or their peculiarity of soil ; 
some on account of the dryness, others on account of 
the humidity of the atmosphere, From the data 
given, widely differing conclusions have been reached 
by different observers. In regard to the localities 
which are claimed to be especially adapted to the 
treatment of pulmonary phthisis, few writers have 
carefully observed, for any considerable length of 
time, the effect of the climate upon individual cases, 
or, if they have so observed, they have not made 
public the result of such observations ; and on this ac- 
count very definite conclusions as to the relative merits 
of the different localities have never been reached. 

In the preparation of this paper, my object has 
been to show the effect of the climate of the Adi- 
rondack region upon all the cases of well-developed 
phthisis which, under my observation, have given the 
region an extended trial. I am largely indebted for 
facts given, and the history of cases, to my friend Dr. 
Edward L. Trudeau, who, with a phthisical invalid, 
took up his residence in this region five years ago. 

By way of explanation, I would state that clinic- 
ally and pathologically I recognize three varieties of 
pulmonary phthisis, viz., catarrhal phthisis, fibrous 
phthisis, and tubercular phthisis. 

In catarrhal phthisis, the primary changes are in 
the cavities of the alveoli and bronchi, and are epi- 
thelial and cellular in their nature. 

In. fibrous phthisis, the primary changes occur in 
the bronchial and alveolar connective-tissue, and are 
connective-tissue hyperplasias. 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 99 

In tubercular phthisis, the primary changes occur 
in the lymphoid elements of the lung, associated with 
connective- tissue hyperplasias forming little masses 
or nodules, which ordinarily are termed tubercles. 
The development of tubercle in a lung may be pre- 
ceded or accompanied by an alveolar cellular process, 
or by a connective-tissue hyperplasia, and as the one 
or the other predominates, so is the duration of the 
case long or short. 

In the later stages of these different varieties of 
phthisis, it is always difficult, and sometimes impos- 
sible, to distinguish the one from the other ; but in 
the earlier stages, in most cases, the differential diag- 
nosis can readily be made. 

The peculiar clinical feature of catarrhal phthisis 
is, that at the onset the local symptoms are well 
marked and precede or accompany the constitutional. 
The local signs may be those of pneumonia or of 
localized bronchitis of the small tubes, while the 
peculiar clinical feature of tubercular phthisis is, that 
at the onset of the disease there are few local signs, 
while the constitutional disturbance is very marked. 

Fibrous phthisis is distinguished from all other 
forms by its greater chronicity. Usually it commences 
as a chronic affection, coming on very insidiously. 
Its chief clinical feature is, that its development is 
preceded by a chronic bronchitis or pleurisy limited 
to one lung, or perhaps an unresolved pneumonia. 
In rare instances, it is developed in the course of some 
constitutional disease — as syphilis, gout, etc. 

These three varieties of pulmonary phthisis not 



100 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

only differ in their origin, mode of development, 
progress and termination, but necessarily they require 
different plans of treatment, and are differently af- 
fected by climate. 

To rightly estimate the effect of the climate of any 
place or region, it is absolutely necessary that we be 
able to determine what variety of phthisis it is that 
is cured or arrested in that locality. Frequently, in- 
dividuals with catarrhal phthisis will do badly at an 
altitude at which those with fibrous phthisis will be 
benefited. Besides, in determining the locality in 
which phthisical developments will be most likely to 
be arrested, we must take into account the age and 
general condition of the individual. Tgr instance, 
an enfeebled and broken down middle-aged phthisi- 
cal subject does badly in a high mountain region, but 
is benefited by the air of the sea. 

The region known as the Adirondack region is com- 
prised in that portion of our State which lies north 
of the Mohawk and west of the Champlain Valley. 
It may be said to include the counties of Clinton, 
Franklin, Essex, Hamilton, with portions of adjoin- 
ing counties, and has an area equal in extent to nearly 
one-third of the State of New York. Within its 
limits there is a plateau from 1,500 to 2,000 feet 
above sea level, 150 miles in length (latitude), and 
100 miles in breadth (longitude). On this plateau 
there are more than two thousand square miles of 
primitive forests, mostly evergreen, and many hun- 
dred lakes and ponds. From the surface of this 
plateau rise granitic mountain peaks more than five 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 101 

thousand feet in height. The drainage of this table- 
land is toward Lake Champlain on the east, the St. 
Lawrence River on the northwest, and the Hudson 
River on the south. Many of the streams which 
flow in these different directions intercept each other, 
and some of them, as well as the lakes, are navigable 
for light canoes or boats. Occasionally there are 
easy portages between these bodies of water, and 
sometimes we meet with rapids or falls. I doubt 
whether any region in this country furnishes to the 
invalid or pleasure-seeker such a stimulus to out-of- 
door life. 

Mr. Verplanck Colvin, in the conclusion to his re- 
port, published in 1874, on the Topographical Survey 
of the Adirondack Wilderness, uses the following 
words to express his enthusiasm — words which fitly 
express the enthusiasm of many another one familiar 
with this region : 

"The Adirondack wilderness may be considered 
the wonder and glory of New York. It is a vast 
natural park, one immense and silent forest, curi- 
ously and beautifully broken by the gleaming waters 
of a myriad of lakes, between which rugged moun- 
tain ranges rise as a sea of granite billows. At the 
northeast the mountains culminate within an area of 
some hundreds of square miles ; and here savage, 
treeless peaks, towering above the timber line, crowd 
one another, and, standing gloomily shoulder to 
shoulder rear their rocky crests amid the frosty 
clouds. The wild beasts may look forth from the 
ledges on the mountain sides over unbroken wood- 



102 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

lands stretching beyond the reach of sight — beyond 
the blue hazy ridges at the horizon. The voyager 
by canoe beholds lakes in which these mountains and 
wild forests are reflected like hi verted reality ; now 
wondrous in their dark grandeur and solemnity; 
now glorious in resplendent autumn color of pearly 
beauty." 

These words are the enthusiastic outbursts of one 
who has a more accurate and comprehensive knowl- 
edge of the topography of this region than has any 
other man. 

It is not surprising that in such a region the tired 
worker and worn-out invalid find the rest and quiet 
which is so powerful a restorer of health. Here, as I 
have already intimated, there is every inducement for . 
one to lead an out-of-door life ; the very surroundings 
infuse new life into the feeble body, and one daily 
grows stronger and stronger and feels better, scarcely 
able to tell how or why. One condition which I 
regard of the greatest importance in seeking a suitable 
home for the phthisical invalid is here met with, viz. : 
dryness of soil. 

Undoubtedly a damp warm, as well as a damp cold, 
climate acts unfavorably upon phthisical invalids, 
but the peculiar dampness which acts most unfavor- 
ably is not usually present in those localities where 
there is the greatest rainfall, nor is it present because 
large bodies of water are in close proximity, but it 
mainly depends upon the nature of the soil. To 
avoid this dampness, the soil should be porous and 
sandy — a loose soil of sufficient porosity to permit the 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 103 

rapid filtering of water from its surface, so that after 
a heavy rainfall the surface will soon become dry. 
All clay soil drains slowly and imperfectly, and the 
peculiar dampness arises which acts so unfavorably 
on phthisical invalids. Laennec states, that the 
dampness arising from such a condition of soil is one 
of the most certain developing causes of phthisis, and 
he makes mention of a locality, having such a soil, in 
which the dampness was so constant and of such a 
character, that more than two-thirds of the resident 
population died of phthisis. In determining the fit- 
ness of a locality as a residence for phthisical invalids, 
I have come to regard the external configuration and 
conformation of the soil as of greater importance 
than the amount of rainfall, or the relative moisture. 
The climate of the Adirondack region may be con- 
sidered a moist, cool climate. The rainfall is above 
the average for other portions of the State, and may 
be roughly estimated at fifty-five inches. The spring 
is cool, and there is considerable rain until about the 
middle of June. There is a dry period during the 
summer, when little rain falls, and the days become 
hot, while almost without an exception the nights are 
cool, often cold, and heavy dews fall. There is rarely 
at any time excessive heat, and during the warmest 
weather there are but few nights, even in August, 
when a blanket is not needed. My friend Dr. Tru- 
deau, who has remained here summer and winter for 
the past five years, makes the following statement : 
" That he has never found the mercury above 87° 
during the past six summers, and this high temper- 



104 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

atnre was only maintained for a few hours during 
the afternoon. The air during the fall months, with 
the exception of one or two long rain-storms, is bra- 
cing and admirably suited to out-of-door life. During 
the winter the cold is almost uninterrupted, no thaw- 
ing of any consequence taking place before the month 
of March. There is a preponderance of cloudy days 
and snow-storms. The mercury, during January and 
February, frequently for days at a time stands many 
degrees below zero. As the cold weather usually con- 
tinues until the end of March, the thawing takes 
place quickly, and owing to the sieve-like nature of 
the soil the snow disappears very rapidly, conse- 
quently the change from winter to spring is soon ac- 
complished. 

There is no marked preponderance of clear days 
at any season ; on the contrary, the sky, especially in 
winter, is constantly overcast. This cool, cloudy 
weather is a marked feature of this climate. The 
altitude varies with the different localities ; but the 
immense plateau which forms the lake region of the 
Adirondacks is about eighteen hundred feet above 
sea-level. The soil is very light and sandy, with 
here and there rocks, but little or no clay. 

There appears at first sight but little to induce one 
to consider this locality as favorable for persons af- 
fected with phthisis. Hitherto heat and cold and 
absence of moisture, or an equable temperature, have 
been regarded as necessary in order to favorable re- 
sults in the treatment of phthisis ; but it has been 
shown by trial that neither cold, nor heat, nor mois- 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTS Y. 105 % 

ture, alone, are all-sufficient factors in guiding us to 
a right understanding of the most favorable atmos- 
pheric conditions for phthisical patients. In a written 
communication to me, Dr. Trudeau also says : " High 
mountains, the desert, and the open sea, have per- 
haps given so far the best results in the treatment of 
chronic chest disease ; and yet all these differ widely 
except in one respect, namely, purity of atmosphere. 
It is neither hot nor cold air, damp nor dry air, but 
pure air which is necessary to diseased lungs. Many 
conditions render the atmosphere of these mountains 
perfectly pure. The elevation of this region, its 
sandy soil, the undulating nature of the country, 
which ensures perfect drainage ; the absence of culti- 
vation, even of dwellings — all these conditions pre- 
clude the presence of telluric or miasmatic poison, 
and we have a purity of atmosphere unknown in 
more settled districts. The forests of this region are 
almost unbroken, stretching over the valleys, cover- 
ing the mountains often to their very summit, and 
extending in some directions for nearly a hundred 
-miles, while innumerable lakes dot this elevated pla- 
teau and give moisture to the air. That the atmos- 
phere of such a region, especially when set in motion, 
should, by its contact with myriads of tree-tops and 
pine sheaves, become heavily laden with ozone is a 
natural sequence. Whatever other properties this 
gas may hereafter be found to possess, we know that 
it is a powerful disinfectant and Nature's choice agent 
for counteracting atmospheric impurities. This pro- 
cess, which during the summer months is carried on 
5* 



106 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

by all varieties of trees, during the winter months is 
maintained by the evergreens, while the deciduous 
trees are deprived of "their foliage. Pine, balsam, 
spruce, and hemlock trees abound, and the air is 
heavily laden with the resinous odors which they ex- 
hale. An agent which it is universally admitted ex- 
erts a most beneficial influence on diseased mucous 
membranes is thus brought in contact with the air- 
passages, while balsamics, which are also disinfect- 
ants, purify the atmosphere, which is constantly im- 
pregnated with them. Besides this, the air of the 
wilderness is optically pure, noticeably free from dust 
or visible particles of any kind. The invalid, there- 
fore, is here surrounded by a zone of pure air, which 
separates him, as it were, from the germ-pervaded 
world, and his diseased lungs are supplied with a 
specially vitalized and purified atmosphere, free from 
germs and impurities of any kind, and laden with 
the resinous exhalations of myriads of evergreens.'' 
Though as yet but few phthisical invalids have 
been induced to give the Adirondack region an ex- 
tended trial, the good results obtained by those who 
have remained there for any considerable length of 
time are the strongest arguments in its favor. Dr. 
Trudeau writes : " My own personal experience and 
my personal observation of other phthisical invalids 
lead me to say that any comparison of the relative 
£;ood effects of the climate of St. Paul, Minn., or of the 
South, with that of the Adirondack region, is decid- 
edly in favor of the latter." In regard to camp life, 
he writes : " Camping out, which is the peculiar fea- 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 107 

ture of this place, if done in an intelligent manner, 
from June to October, I consider an important and 
beneficial measure in the treatment of phthisis; if 
done carelessly, it is by no means free from risk. The 
advantages gained by this mode of life are evident. 
The phthisical invalid for four months, night and 
day, lives out-of-doors, in a pure atmosphere ; he is 
quiet, has perfect rest, plenty of good food (for 
which this mode of life gives an amazing relish) ; he 
has no opportunity to daily observe the effect upon 
other phthisical invalids of the disease from which he 
is suffering ; his surroundings are such that he can lie 
down whenever standing fatigues him, can eat when- 
ever he is hungry, sleep when exhausted, and dress 
as suits his own comfort — all of which comforts the 
requirements of society sometimes interfere with. 

" All these things — the breathing of the pure air 
of the wilderness, the perfect rest, the wholesome 
food, and early hours — combine to make tent-life a 
powerful weapon in combating this disease. 

" Exposure in inclement weather, which this mode 
of life at times renders almost unavoidable, is well 
borne in this climate by phthisical invalids who stead- 
ily live out of doors. During the past six years I 
have never seen any evil results from this mode of 
life ; but I have seen men in camp lose their cough 
and gain in flesh while it rained daily, and in the 
midst of occasional frosts and snow-storms." 

Dr. Trudeau expresses himself strongly on this 
point, having faithfully tried tent-life, and he adds : 
" Many of the risks supposed to attend out-of-door 



108 THE WILDEENESS CUBE. 

life exist only in the imagination of the timid ; " and 
he believes that tent-life, and a return to the invigor- 
ating, ont-of-door existence of the savage is Nature's 
antidote for a disease which is almost an outgrowth 
of civilization and its enervating influences. 

To proceed to results obtained from a fair trial of 
this region. 

Case I. — Eleven years ago, in the summer of 1867, 
as an invalid, I first visited this region. For several 
months previous I had suffered from cough with 
muco-purulent expectoration, loss of flesh and strength, 
night-sweats, and other rational and physical signs 
which attend incipient phthisical development. The 
only survivor of a family, every member of which 
(save, perhaps, one) had died of phthisis, I had come 
to regard my case a critical one. A Southern trip had 
not relieved, if it had not aggravated, my phthisical 
symptoms. In this condition I went into this region 
and into camp, and when, before the summer months 
had passed, I came out of the Adirondack or north 
woods free from cough, with an increase in weight 
of about twenty pounds, with greater physical vigor 
than I had known for years, I very naturally became 
an enthusiast in regard to them. 

My personal experience that summer convinced 
me that there was something in the air of this region 
especially adapted to diseased lungs ; that, if the 
climate had no direct influence in arresting or pre- 
venting phthisical developments, it certainly allayed 
bronchial irritation, and the phthisical invalid soon 
became able to spend the greater portion of his time 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 109 

in the open air ; still more, his surroundings were 
such that if a lover of nature or of sport, he neces- 
sarily forgot himself, and thus was nature aided, and 
vigor and health restored. 

I would mention here that my personal experience, 
as well as my experience since that time in regard to 
its effect upon others, leads me to believe that, dur- 
ing the warm season, a camp or tent-life is of the 
greatest service to pulmonary invalids, if they are 
not enfeebled. 

From time to time, since that summer, eleven 
years ago, I have sent phthisical invalids into this 
region. At first I sent them only during the sum- 
mer months, but I found that while temporary relief 
was afforded, and in some instances marked improve- 
ment took place, in cases of fully developed phthisis 
the latter was not permanent, and although the win- 
ter months might be spent at the South, yet before 
another summer came around the disease progressed. 
Not until 1873 was I able to persuade any phthisical 
invalid to remain during the winter. The effect of 
the winter climate on this invalid showed so marked- 
ly the benefit to be derived from a winter's residence 
in this region, that from that time, each winter, 
others have been induced to remain. Fourteen re- 
mained last winter. 

A brief analysis of the cases which have been 
under my own personal supervision, or that of Dr. 
Trudeau, will, I think, enable us to reach some satis- 
factory conclusions in regard to the therapeutical 
effects of the climate of the Adirondack region. They 



110 THE WILDERNESS CTTEE. 

are unselected cases, and the only cases of value, as 
these are the only phthisical invalids who have re-* 
mained in the region a sufficient length of time to 
give the climate anything like a fair trial. 

Case II. — Dr. E. L. T , aged twenty-five ; fam- 
ily history good ; began to lose his health in the win- 
ter of 1872. His symptoms were rapidly becoming 
urgent ; he was examined by several physicians. Ex- 
tensive consolidation at left apex was found, extend- 
ing posteriorly nearly to angle of scapula ; on the 
right side nothing was discovered save slight pleuritic 
adhesions at the apex. 

He was ordered South, but returned in the spring 
in no way benefited. On the contrary, night-sweat- 
ing had set in, and his fever was higher. In the 
latter part of May he started for the Adirondacks, 
the ride in the stage being accomplished on an im- 
provised bed. His condition at this time was most 
unpromising ; he had daily fever, night-sweats, pro- 
fuse and purulent expectoration, had lost his appe- 
tite, and was obliged constantly to have recourse to 
stimulants. Weight about one hundred and thirty- 
four pounds. He began to improve at once, his 
appetite returned, all his symptoms decreased in 
severity, and after a stay of more than three months 
he returned to New York, weighing one hundred 
and forty-six pounds, with only slight morning 
cough, presenting the appearance of a man in good 
health. A few days after his arrival in New York 
he had a chill, all his old symptoms returned, and he 
was advised to leave for St. Paul, where he spent the 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. Ill 

entire winter. He did badly there ; was sick the 
greater portion of the winter. In the spring of 1873 
he again went to the Adirondacks. At this time he 
was in a most debilitated state, was anaemic, emaci- 
ated, had daily hectic fever, constant cough, and pro- 
fuse purulent expectoration. 

The marked improvement did not commence at 
once, as it did the previous summer, and the first of 
September found him in a wretched condition. I 
then examined him for the first time, and found com- 
plete consolidation of the left lung over the scapula 
and supra-scapula space, with pleuritic thickenings 
and adhesions over the infra-clavicular space. On 
coughing, bronchial rales of large and small size were 
heard over the consolidated portion of the lung. 
Over the right infra-clavicular region the respiratory 
murmur was feeble, and on full inspiration pleuritic 
friction sounds were heard. I advised him to remain 
at St. Regis Lake during the winter, and although he 
was repeatedly warned that such a step would prove 
fatal, he followed my advice. 

From that time he began slowly to improve. Since 
that time he has lived in this region. At the present 
time his weight is one hundred and fifty-eight pounds, 
a gain of twenty-two pounds since he first went to 
the Adirondacks in 1873, and ten pounds more than 
was his' weight in health. lie has slight morning cough 
and expectoration, his pulse is from 72 to 85, and he 
presents the appearance of a person in good health. 
In his lungs evidences still remain of the disease he 
has so many years combated. 



112 THE WILDERNESS CUEE. 

Although he has made three attempts to live in 
New York, at intervals of two years, each time his re- 
moval from the mountains has been followed within 
ten days by a chill, and a return of pneumonic symp- 
toms — symptoms so ominous that he lias become 
convinced that it will be necessary for him to remain 
in the Adirondack region for some time to come. 

Case III.— In the fall of 1873, Mr. E , aged 

twenty, with decided hereditary tendency to phthisis, 
went into the hike region of the Adirondacks. He had 
then been ill about eighteen months, had spent two 
winters in Nassau, and for the three months immedi- 
ately preceding his arrival, he had failed very rapidly. 
When he first consulted me, in September, 1873, I 
found him extremely emaciated, weighing one hun- 
dred and eight pounds, pulse habitually ranging from 
110 to 130, morning temperature from 102° to 103°. 
He had loss of appetite, night-sweats, and a constant 
harassing cough with slight hemorrhages. Physical 
examination revealed a large cavity on the right side 
posteriorly, with entire consolidation of the right lung. 
At the left apex there was also a small cavity with fine 
crackling rales over the upper third of the left lung. 
His condition remained desperate during the follow- 
ing winter, but in the spring he somewhat recovered 
his appetite, he regained strength, and he had long 
intervals during which he was entirely free from fe- 
ver. He spent the spring and summer of 1874 in 
camp, and his improvement was very marked. A 
physical examination of his chest in the fall of 1874 
showed a marked decrease in the pulmonary consoli- 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 113 

dation on the right side, the cavity had apparently 
diminished in size, and vesicular murmurs could be 
heard below and on either side of it. On the left 
side the crackling sounds had disappeared, and no 
signs of cavity could longer be detected, but broncho- 
vesicular breathing was still distinctly heard. His 
heart was hypertrophied, pulse 88, evening tempera- 
ture 99f °, weight one hundred and sixteen pounds. 
For the succeeding eight months he steadily improved. 
In June, 1875, after an exposure which it would have 
been unwise for one in health to risk, he was seized 
with a prolonged chill, which was very severe, and 
was followed by a pulmonary hemorrhage so profuse 
that for some time he was thought to be dead, but he 
lingered until morning, and died from pulmonary con- 
gestion and oedema. 

Although this case terminated fatally, I regarded 
it as one of arrested phthisis. The beneficial effects 
of the climate of this lake region were so positive and 
well-marked in this case, that I assumed the responsi- 
bility and induced other phthisical invalids to make a 
trial of it, contrary to the advice of other physicians, 
and regardless of the expostulations of friends. 

Case IY. — Mr. M , aged twenty-seven, with a 

good family history, after an illness of several months, 
which was marked by cough, expectoration, and loss 
of flesh, spent the summer of 1870 at Saranac Lake, 
where he markedly improved, lost his cough, and 
gained in weight. After his return to 'New York in 
the fall, his cough returned, other physical symptoms 
developed, and he was quite ill throughout the win- 



114 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

ter. The next summer he returned to the Adiron- 
dacks much worse than he was the previous year. 
Again he improved, and he thought he was almost 
well. He went to California for the winter, did badly 
there, and on his return to New York in the spring, 
two physicians of large experience pronounced his case 
a hopeless one — -one which would probably terminate 
fatally within six months. In the early summer of 
1872 he reached the Adirondacks in a most pitiable 
condition. Both lungs were extensively diseased. 
At the apex of the left lung were the physical signs 
of extensive consolidation and softening. The upper 
third of the right lung was consolidated, and was the 
seat of large and small mucous rales. He had hectic 
fever, extreme dyspnoea, a rapid pulse, and other 
symptoms of advanced phthisis. lie soon began to 
gain flesh and strength, his appetite improved, he 
coughed less, his expectoration was diminished in 
quantity, and by early fall he was able to keep out of 
doors the greater portion of the time. For five years 
he remained in the lake region. At times his condi- 
tion was most promising, although little change took 
place in the physical signs. Last spring, tired of the 
seclusion, he returned to his home in New York* 

Unquestionably this was a case of catarrhal phthisis, 
and the results obtained from his first summer's 
residence in the Adirondack region lead me to believe 
that if Mr. M. had remained in the region the winter 
succeeding this first summer, he would have reached 
complete recovery. Even after reaching an advanced 
stage of the disease, when there was no longer a pos- 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 115 

sibility of recovery, a condition of stasis was readied 
when lie permanently resided in the region. 

Case V. — Mrs. L , aged forty, good family 

history ; early in the summer of 1871 went to the 
Adirondacks. She had been ill eight months with a 
cough and other phthisical symptoms. At the time 
of her arrival she was in a state of extreme exhaus- 
tion ; for several weeks previous she had lived en- 
tirely upon beef -tea and champagne. She had a 
harassing cough, with profuse expectoration, and 
hectic fever. Physical examination revealed a mode- 
rate amount of consolidation at the apex of the right 
lung, with crackling rales of large and small size ; no 
evidence of softening. At once her desire for food 
returned, and she began to gain flesh and strength ; 
gradually her cough and expectoration diminished, 
and late in the fall she returned to her home markedly 
improved. Since that time she has spent some time 
every summer or fall in this region, and for the last 
three years none of the rational or physical signs of 
phthisis have been present. 

In this case the rapidity and completeness of the 
recovery was quite surprising, when we consider how 
unpromising was the condition of the patient at the 
time when she first reached the Adirondacks. 

Case YI. — Mr. P , aged thirty, with no here- 
ditary tendency to any disease, first consulted me in 
the spring of 1875. He had been ill six months 
with cough, expectoration, hectic fever, gradual ema- 
ciation, and other well-marked phthisical symptoms. 
Physical examination of chest revealed consolidation 



116 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

at the apex of the right lung, with sharp crackling 
rales, most abundant posteriorly, where distinct bron- 
chial breathing could be heard below the spine of 
the scapula; left lung healthy. I advised him to 
take up his residence in the Adirondacks. He re- 
mained in camp in the lake region during the sum- 
mer of 1875, with only a slight increase in weight, a 
slight improvement in strength, and no change in 
cough or physical signs. During the fall and winter 
he had several hemorrhages, with fever, and was con- 
fined to his bed at different times. Early the next 
spring he went into camp, and remained until Sep- 
tember. When he came out of camp he weighed 
one hundred and eighty-one pounds, had gained 
forty pounds ; he had no cough, no expectoration, no 
fever. An examination of his chest revealed no ab- 
normal sound, except pleuritic creaking and feeble 
respiratory murmur posteriorly over the former seat 
of the pulmonary consolidation. I regarded him a 
well man, and permitted him to return to his home. 
He remained well until the following spring, when 
he had an attack of acute cystitis. He was confined 
to his bed for six weeks ; as soon as he was able to 
travel he returned to the Adirondacks, but the cysti- 
tis became chronic, Was complicated by pyelitis and 
nephritis, and in early winter he died from acute 
uraemia. 

At the time Mr. R. took up his residence in the 
Adirondacks, his digestive and assimilating processes 
were in a feeble condition. Undoubtedly this ac- 
counted for the fact that for nearly a year there was 



DE. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 117 

little, if any, improvement in his lung disease. Bis 
five months' camp life during the second year of his 
residence in the Adirondacks not only cured his dis- 
eased lung, but wrought an entire change in his 
physical condition. So great was the change, that 
one would scarcely recognize him. When he left the 
woods the following fall, no evidence of lung dis- 
ease could be detected, nor was any detected during 
the remainder of his life. 

Case VII. — Miss C , aged eighteen, in the 

spring or early summer of 1875 reached the Adiron- 
dacks in a very feeble condition. She had had a 
cough for six months, with frequent pulmonary hem- 
orrhages, attended by fever, loss of flesh and strength. 
Physical examination of the chest revealed dulness 
on percussion, bronchial respiration, and crackling 
rales at the apex of -the right lung. Her improve- 
ment began at once ; at the expiration of three 
months she had gained eleven pounds in weight, had 
no cough, and had so regained her strength as to be 
able to take active out-of-door exercise. In early fall 
she returned to her home, and has there remained in 
good health. 

In this case the pulmonary consolidation was evi- 
dently catarrhal in its nature, and of recent date. 
That she came to the Adirondacks in the earlier 
stages of the disease, probably had much to do with 
her rapid and complete recovery. 

Case YIII. — Mr. B , aged thirty-two, with a 

decided hereditary predisposition to phthisis, took up 
his residence in the lake region of the Adirondacks 



118 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

in the summer of 1875. After lie left home, before 
he reached the Adirondacks, he had a severe hem- 
orrhage. For three months after his arrival he was 
in a critical condition, had severe cough, frequent 
hemorrhages, fever, and rapid emaciation. He did 
not begin to improve until late in the fall, after 
which time his improvement was steadily progressive. 
During a two years' residence in the region he fully 
regained health and strength, his cough ceased, and 
in August, IS 78, I could find no trace of disease in 
the lungs, except old pleuritic thickenings and ad- 
hesions at the apex of the left lung. In September, 
1878, he left the Adirondacks. ' 

During his first year's residence in the Adirondacks 
no physical examination was made, but he stated that 
previous to his coming into the region his medical 
advisers had told him that his lungs were extensively 
diseased, and that he had come with a "forlorn 
hope." His disease commenced as a " severe cold," 
and unquestionably his case was one of catarrhal 
phthisis. 

Case IX — Dr. T , aged thirty-two, with marked 

hereditary tendency to phthisis, came to the Adiron- 
dacks in the summer of 1875. For ten months he 
had been ill with well-marked phthisical symptoms. 
The upper third of the right lung was consolidated, 
with circumscribed liquid rales in the supra- scapular 
fossa. At the apex of the left lung there was ex- 
aggerated rude respiration, but no rales. He remained 
four months, in camp the greater portion of the 
time. As he improved he became restless, and could 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 119 

not be induced to longer remain. His weight was 
now one hundred and forty-eight pounds, he had 
gained twelve pounds, and had no cough. After 
leaving the Adirondacks he went South, but re- 
turned in the spring in a most' enfeebled condition ; 
weight one hundred and twenty-seven pounds, with 
pallid countenance, difficult breathing, and so weak 
that he was obliged to lie down the greater portion 
of the time. The entire upper lobe of the lung on 
the right side was consolidated, and abundant rales 
were heard throughout the consolidated portion. The 
respirations at the apex of the left lung had become 
markedly bronchial in character. He began to im- 
prove, and by the first of December had regained his 
appetite and strength. Again he became restless, 
left the Adirondacks, went to Colorado and Califor- 
nia, was twice near death, and in early summer re- 
turned to the Adirondacks "in extremis," with a 
large cavity in his right lung, and commencing soft- 
ening in his left lung. Having thrown away his 
chances for recovery, he died in early winter. 

A series of mistakes marked the course of this- 
patient. A short time previous to his death he stated 
to me that in attempting to follow the advice of his 
Philadelphia physician, who recommended a warm 
climate, and that of his New York medical adviser, 
who recommended a cold climate, he had made the 
result a failure. 

As we review his history, it seems to me that we 
are warranted in coming to the conclusion that the 
result might have been different had he remained in 



120 THE WILDERNESS CUBE. 

the Adirondack region for two or three years suc- 
ceeding Lis first visit. 

Case X. — Mrs. M , aged twenty-eight, with no 

hereditary tendency to phthisis, consulted me in the 
fall of 1876. She had a cough, which was paroxysmal 
in character, with little expectoration. For several 
months she had been losing flesh, had had daily 
fever and night-sweats ; at times she had suffered 
from severe attacks of dyspnoea, which were followed 
by an expectoration which she termed " stringy." 
Physical examination revealed pulmonary consolida- 
tion posteriorly at the apex of the right lung, with 
sharp bronchial rales over the consolidation. At dif- 
ferent points over the chest, dry and moist rales were 
heard, and I made the diagnosis of probable fibrous 
bronchitis, with pulmonary consolidation at the apex 
of the right lung. I advised her to spend the winter 
in Asheville, E\- C, where she obtained little, if any, 
relief. During the winter she expectorated a num- 
ber of well-formed bronchial casts. On her return, I 
found her more feeble than when I first saw her, and 
the area of lung consolidation increased. 

Following my advice, in June she went into the 
lake region of the Adirondacks, remained nearly a 
year, and entirely recovered from the bronchitis and 
pulmonary consolidation. 

This case was one of well-marked plastic bronchi- 
tis, with circumscribed consolidation at the apex of 
the right lung. When we recall the fact that the 
majority of cases of chronic plastic bronchitis are 
followed by phthisis, and terminate fatally, the com- 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 121 

plete recovery readied in this case is somewhat sur- 
prising. 

I would call attention to the fact that in this case 
the climate of the Adirondacks produced such differ- 
ent results from that of Asheville, UST. C. 

Case XI. — Miss F ■, aged nineteen, of a non- 
phthisical family, consulted me in March, 1875, 
having taken cold the previous January. She was 
rapidly losing flesh, had an almost constant hacking 
cough, night-sweats, with other well-marked phthisi- 
cal symptoms. On physical examination, I found 
complete consolidation of the upper third of the right 
lung, with crackling rales posteriorly. Evening tem- 
perature 103°, and pulse feeble. She had lost ten 
pounds since January, and was easily exhausted. 
Ten days after I first saw her she had a profuse 
hemorrhage ; in two days this was followed by a 
second. She was so reduced in strength by these 
hemorrhages, and her general symptoms became so 
aggravated, that unless soon arrested it was evident 
her pulmonary disease would progress very rapidly, 
and soon terminate fatally ; I feared acute phthisis. 

In the early part of April she went to Washington, 
was carried to and from the cars ; she remained six 
weeks, with very little improvement in her condition, 
the entire upper lobe of the right lung having now 
become involved in the pulmonary consolidation. 
The early part of July she reached the Adirondacks. 
She rapidly began to improve, and when I examined 
her the following October, she had gained twenty 
pounds in weight, coughed only in the morning after 



122 THE WILDERNESS CUBE. 

rising, had no fever, and had a pulse of 80. Bron- 
chial breathing was heard posteriorly over the area of 
the pulmonary consolidation, while qnite extensive 
pleuritic adhesions and thickening could be detected 
in front. She spent portions of the summer and fall 
months in the Adirondacks for the two succeeding 
years, and now regards herself perfectly well, and is 
so regarded by her f riends. 

The pleuritic changes which occurred during the 
active progress of the disease alone give evidence of 
her former pulmonary disease. When this patient first 
went to the Adirondacks, not only did her disease in- 
volve a large amount of lung-tissue, but her general 
condition was very unpromising, her stomach, was 
exceedingly irritable, and her emaciation was rapid 
and her anaemia extreme. 

Case XII. — Mrs. P , aged forty, from a non- 
phthisical family, first came under my observation 
in March, 1877. Since 1869 she had suffered with 
phthisical symptoms ; at times her case had been re- 
garded as hopeless. Physical examination revealed 
fibrous induration of the upper lobe of the right lung, 
with the physical signs of cavity under the right 
clavicle, and pleuritic thickening over the entire lung. 
Pulse 100, feeble, and easily accelerated. Temperature 
101° ; extreme dyspnoea consequent upon exertion. 
She had night-sweats, was extremely anaemic, not 
markedly emaciated, but her weight was less than 
when in health. Cough paroxysmal and violent, with 
si ate- colored expectoration ; her appetite was capric- 
ious, and her disease had made marked progress since 



DR. LOOMIS OF THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 123 

the early part of January. In early summer she went 
to the lake region, where she remained until fall. In 
her general health the improvement was very marked ; 
hut little change took place in the physical signs. 
During the winter there was little change in her con- 
dition. Early the following summer (summer of 
1878) she went to the Adirondacks and into camp, 
where she remained until the following October. 
Not only was the improvement in her general health 
very marked, but her cough almost entirely disap- 
peared, and her general physical condition was better 
than it had been since the commencement of her dis- 
ease. The fibrous induration remained at the apex 
of the right lung, although vesicular breathing could 
be heard over the remaining portion of the lung. 

When I first examined this case I regarded it as 
one of fibrous phthisis, and only hoped for that com- 
plete cicatricial process to be developed which renders 
the diseased lung- tissue inactive. While, as yet, she 
has not reached such a condition, her steady improve- 
ment without any new lung-tissue becoming involved, 
and the absence of any evidence that degenerative 
processes have been developed in the lung-tissue 
already involved, leads me to believe that if the same 
climatic influences be continued, which during the 
past two years have produced such beneficial results, 
at length the desired result may be obtained. 

Case XIII. — Mr. S , aged thirty-one, with a 

good family history ; at my suggestion went to the 
Adirondacks in the early part of the summer of 1876. 

He first consulted me in the fall of 1875, had then 



124 THE WILDERNESS CTEE. 

been ill about one year ; had well-marked phthisical 
symptoms. He had received a most unfavorable 
prognosis from medical men in this country and in 
Europe. A physical examination revealed quite ex- 
• tensive consolidation of the apex of the right lung, 
with sharp crackling rales. I advised him to spend 
the winter in Aslieville, N. C. On his return in early 
summer, I found that although his general condition 
had somewhat improved, his pulmonary disease had 
made considerable progress. Soon after his arrival in 
the Adirondacks he was seized with an acute cystitis, 
which prostrated him very much. Although he re- 
mained nearly two years in the lake region, his pul- 
monary disease steadily, but slowly, progressed. In 
the spring of 1878, in an extremely debilitated con- 
dition, he returned to his home in Ohio. 

In this case, the disease from its onset steadily pro- 
gressed, and the diagnosis of tubercular phthisis which 
was made the first time I saw him, was confirmed by 
his subsequent history. While he was in the Adiron- 
dack region, although at times he seemed to be im- 
proving, the periods of improvement were of short 
duration, and each exacerbation of fever left him in 
a more and more enfeebled condition. With each 
exacerbation of fever, new areas of lung-tissue became 
involved. At the time he left for his home in Ohio, 
suspicious bubbling sounds were heard over the origi- 
nal seat of his disease, and his respirations were 
amphoric in character. 

Case XIY. — Mr. L , aged twenty-two, with 

well-marked phthisical symptoms, had been ill six 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 125 

months, when, in the summer of 1877, he took up 
his residence in the Adirondacks. At the time of 
his arrival his cough was constant, his expectoration 
was of a greenish color, and of tenacious consistency. 
He was rapidly losing flesh, had night-sweats, and 
shortness of breath upon slight exertion. Physical 
examination revealed consolidation at the apex of the 
right lung, with fine crackling rales in the supra-scap- 
ular fossa. He remained about one year, spending 
the summer and early fall in camp. His cough dis- 
appeared, and he gained fourteen pounds in weight. 
Ten months after his arrival no abnormal sound could 
be heard in his lungs, except feeble respiratory mur- 
mur, and pleuritic creaking at the end of a full in- 
spiration at the former seat of the pulmonary con- 
solidation. He has continued perfectly well to the 
present time, and is now studying law. This was a 
case of catarrhal phthisis in its first stage, in which, 
like the previous case of which I have made men- 
tion, the recovery from the pulmonary disease was 
rapid and complete. 

Case XY. — Mrs. G , of a non-phthisical fam- 
ily, first consulted me in April, 1878. She had suf- 
fered with well-marked phthisical symptoms for six 
months, the result of a cold contracted the previous 
summer, while she was in a debilitated condition, 
which had been followed by a cough. Physical ex- 
amination of the chest revealed consolidation of the 
upper two-thirds of the right lung, with circumscribed 
moist rales under the right clavicle with amphoric 
breathing. She was very feeble ; had rapidly lost 



126 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

flesh ; bad night-sweats, loss of appetite, an almost 
constant cough, an abundant expectoration, with oc- 
casional spitting of blood, and dyspnoea upon slight 
exertion. Temperature in the evening, 103° ; pulse, 
110 to 120. 

She went into the lake region of the Adirondacks 
in June, and returned the last of September. She 
made little or no improvement until the last of Au- 
gust ; from that time she began to rapidly improve, 
and has continued to gain flesh to the present time. 
She now weighs thirty-eight pounds more than be- 
fore she went to the Adirondacks, and coughs only 
in the morning. Physical examination shows vesic- 
ular breathing over the seat of the former consolida- 
tion, except posteriorly, where the breathing is bron- 
cho-vesicular in character, and pleuritic creakings are 
well marked. No signs of cavity can be detected. 

The improvement in this case did not commence 
until two months after she reached the Adirondacks ; 
in fact, for a time the disease seemed to be progress- 
ing with some degree of rapidity. During this time 
she had two quite profuse hemorrhages. The changes 
in the diseased lung were so extensive, and of such a 
nature, that I did not hope for recovery. The in- 
crease in weight has been greater and more rapid 
than in any other case of phthisis which has come 
under my observation. 

Case XYI. — Mr. K, , aged thirty, of a phthisi- 
cal family, began to cough in the winter of 1876. 
Two months after he began to cough he had a hem- 
orrhage. Soon after the hemorrhage he began to 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 127 

have fever and to lose flesh. He first consulted me 
in May, 1876. He then presented the appearance of 
one in advanced phthisis. He was emaciated, had 
an evening temperature of 102° and 103°, and had 
great difficulty of breathing, becoming exhausted from 
the exertion attending the ascent of a flight of stairs. 
Physical examination revealed extensive consolida- 
tion of the upper lobe of the right lung. Distinct 
bronchial respiration could be heard from the clavi- 
cle to the upper border of the fourth rib. He went 
into the Adirondack region, where he remained a 
year. On his return to New York he presented the 
appearance of perfect health. He had no cough, and 
said he weighed more, and felt stronger and better 
than he had for years. Physical examination re- 
vealed only pleuritic thickening over the former seat 
of the pulmonary consolidation. No physical exami- 
nation of the chest was made from the time he went 
into the Adirondack region in early winter until his 
return to New York, one year later. He stated that 
his improvement commenced about three weeks after 
he reached the Adirondacks, and that every day dur- 
ing the winter months he spent from six to eight 
hours out of doors. 

He has remained in New York until the present 
time, and has had no return of his phthisical symp- 
toms. 

Case XYII. — Mr. A , aged thirty-one, with a 

strong hereditary tendency to phthisis, had his first 
hemorrhage in February, 1877, after which he rap- 
idly lost flesh and strength, and in June, when I first 



128 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

saw him, lie was extremely emaciated and anaemic ; 
liad a constant hacking cough, with muco-purulent 
expectoration, and frequent slight hemorrhages. Tem- 
perature ranged from 100° to 103° ; pulse never be- 
low 100, and easily accelerated. Physical examina- 
tion revealed slight consolidation at both apices, with 
moist, bubbling rales in left supra- scapular fossa. He 
went into the Adirondacks in July, and remained 
nearly a year, during which time his disease slowly, 
but steadily, progressed. A physical examination in 
July, 1878, revealed a cavity at the apex of the left 
lung, with infiltration of the entire left lung. I ad- 
vised his return to his family. 

In this case the diagnosis of tubercular phthisis 
was made at the first examination. The subsequent 
history and the uninterrupted progress of the disease 
fully sustained the diagnosis first made. 

Case XVIII. — Mrs. O , aged thirty- four, with 

no hereditary predisposition to phthisis, first con- 
sulted me in May, 1878. She had coughed for six 
months, had repeatedly had hemorrhages. She went 
South during the winter of 1877-78, where she did 
badly, rapidly losing health and strength, and had 
afternoon fever and night-sweats. Pulse 102° F., 
feeble and easily accelerated. Afternoon temperature 
102°. She complained of dyspnoea on slight exer- 
tion, and became easily fatigued, was anaemic, had 
no desire for food, and was dyspeptic. A physical 
examination revealed consolidation of the upper third 
of the left lung, with bronchial rales and pleuritic 
adhesions over the entire left side. 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE* ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 120 

In July she went to St. Regis Lake (Adirondacks), 
where she remained three months. Immediately she 
began to improve ; the cough became less and less 
troublesome, her appetite returned, and she soon 
gained fourteen pounds in weight. By the first of 
September her pulse and temperature were normal, 
and by the first of October the only physical evidences 
of disease were slight pulmonary consolidation un- 
der left scapula, and pleuritic creaking in left infra- 
clavicular space. She has continued to improve since 
her return, and is now apparently well. 

This was another case in which the rapid and con- 
tinued improvement was unexpected. The general 
appearance and condition of the patient when first 
seen by me w^as unpromising. The perseverance or 
fixedness of purpose, and good sense of the patient, 
I believe had very much to do with her marked im- 
provement. She remained out of doors nearly the 
whole of every day, took no risks, and made use of 
everything in her surroundings which would aid iii 
bringing about the desired result. 

Case XIX. — Mr. M , aged thirty-four, con- 
sulted me in the spring of 1877, having had a pul- 
monary hemorrhage. For the previous three months 
he had been rapidly losing flesh and strength, had 
fever, night-sweats, and was extremely ansemic. He 
had had cough with expectoration for more than a 
year. Physical examination revealed consolidation 
of the apex of the left lung as far as the lower bor- 
der of the third rib, with quite extensive pleuritic 
changes and marked retraction of the left side of the 
0* 



130 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

chest. He had repeated hemorrhages, was confined 
to his room for several weeks, and it was the latter 
part of June before he was able to travel. Early in 
July he started for the Adirondacks. He presented 
the appearance of a person in advanced phthisis, and 
physical examination at this time detected marked 
retraction of the left chest and bronchial dilatation 
in the left supra-scapular space. 

During July and August his improvement was very 
slight, and it was the latter part of August before he 
was able to go into camp. He remained about two 
months in camp, during which time he regained his 
normal weight, his strength returned, and he had 
great physical endurance. Late in the fall he re- 
turned to Xew York, presenting the appearance of 
one in health, although he still had cough and short- 
ness of breath, and physical examination showed little 
change in the consolidated lung. His improvement 
continued until the following March, when he again 
grew worse, lost flesh, and had occasional fever. In 
May he had another slight hemorrhage. An exam- 
ination of his chest showed an increase in the pul- 
monary consolidation since the previous examination ; 
pleuritic adhesions and thickenings were detected 
over the whole of the left side, with more marked 
retraction on the left side. He again went to the 
Adirondacks, and remained in camp the greater por- 
tion of the summer and fall. He rapidly regained 
flesh and strength, and all his active phthisical symp- 
toms again disappeared, excepting morning cough 
with expectoration. Little change could be detected 



DK. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 131 

in liis physical signs. Unquestionably this is a case of 
fibrous phthisis, and although while he remains in 
the Adirondack^ he regains his flesh and strength, 
and the progress of the disease seems to be arrested, 
yet little or no improvement can be detected in the 
diseased lung. 

Cast: XX. — Miss IT had her first pulmonary 

hemorrhage, which was quite profuse, in January, 
1877. Within the week following this first hemor- 
rhage she had frequent hemorrhages, averaging more 
than one per day. During the preceding year her 
physical and mental labor had been unusually taxing 
or severe, and she was not in her usual health. For. 
several months she had suffered more or less from 
nasal, pharyngeal, and bronchial catarrh. She first 
consulted me in June, 1877, .at which time she pre- 
sented all the symptoms of well-developed phthisis. 
She had constant cough, with muco-purulent expec- 
toration frequently streaked with blood, was ema- 
ciated, had fever, night-sweats, loss of appetite, short- 
ness of breath, etc. 

A physical examination revealed consolidation of 
left lung from its apex down to the fourth rib, with 
abundant mucous rales over the left scapula. In the 
early part of July she went into the Adirondacks, and 
into camp. On her return from the region in I\o- 
vember, I found her much improved ; she coughed 
little, had no fever, had gained eight pounds in 
weight, could walk long distances without fatigue or 
shortness of breath. Physical examination showed 
marked diminution in pulmonary consolidation in the 



132 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

left iiif ra-clavicular space ; bronchial respiration and 
mucous rales were still heard over left scapula. She 
steadily improved until the middle of February, when 
she had a severe attack of influenza, from the effects 
of which she did not entirely recover, and June, 1878, 
found her in a worse condition than she was in June, 
1877. Following the influenza, a pleurisy was estab- 
lished over the whole of the left pleura. This 
greatly increased her difficulty of respiration. June 
11th she again left for the Adirondacks, went into 
camp July 1st, and remained in camp until October 
10th. During the summer she had two slight hemor- 
rhages, but she steadily regained her strength and 
weight, and seldom coughed. A physical examina- 
tion, made the following November, showed entire 
absence of pulmonary consolidation at the apex of the 
left lung, and the only remaining physical signs of 
disease were pleuritic adhesions or thickenings over 
the upper third of the lung, with localized bronchial 
rales in the left supra-scapular fossa. Since Novem- 
ber her improvement has been steadily progressive ; 
she has the appearance of one in health, yet she has 
slight cough with muco-purulent expectoration, and 
physical signs of disease are still present. 

The statement previously made in regard to the 
probable effect of a longer stay in the woods, holds 
true in this case. 

A brief summary of the foregoing cases gives the 
following results : 

Of the twenty persons who have testea the thera- 
peutical power of the climate of the Adirondack re- . 



DR. LOO MIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 133 

gion, by giving it an extended trial, ten have recov- 
ered, six have been improved, two have not been 
benefited, and two have died. 

The ten cases of recovery were those of catarrhal 
phthisis; of the six cases in which improvement took 
place, four were those of catarrhal phthisis, and two 
were cases of fibrous phthisis. The two cases in 
which no benefit was received from a stay in the 
region were cases of tubercular phthisis, in both of 
which the disease steadily progressed, and at no time 
could it be said that it was even temporarily arrested. 
In both cases of fibrous phthisis, extensive retraction 
of lung had taken place, with bronchial dilatation and 
compensatory emphysematous developments. Exer- 
cise could not be taken, for very slight physical ex- 
ertion brought on attacks of severe and frequent 
dyspnoea, and the severe attacks of coughing inter- 
fered with digestion and nutrition. In both cases 
failure of the right heart was well marked. In both 
the improvement manifested itself in the gaining of 
flesh and strength, rather than hi any change in the 
lungs which could be appreciated by physical exam- 
ination. I believe these cases would have done bet- 
ter in Colorado. 

Those cases of catarrhal phthisis which were im- 
proved, but not cured, were those in which the pul- 
monary changes were extensive, or had reached the 
stage of excavation — cases in which complete recov- 
ery is always problematical. 

In all these cases the improvement did not com- 
mence immediately — not until some time after the 



134 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

individual had taken up his residence in the region ; 
and when it did commence, it was not constantly 
progressive. Each case had a long history of getting 
Letter and worse, but each advance toward recovery 
was more marked than the former. Whether these 
cases will or will not reach complete recovery, is a 
question, but I am certain that a permanent residence 
in the region greatly increases the probabilities of 
such a result, from the fact that in those cases which 
have come under my observation a temporary ab- 
sence from this region has been followed by such 
sad results. In all the cases of catarrhal phthisis 
which have reached recovery, either the pulmonary 
changes were not extensive, or they were of re- 
cent origin, and improvement commenced soon after 
reaching the Adirondacks. The results obtained 
established the fact, that a large proportion of the 
cases of this variety of phthisis, if they have not 
passed the first stage, or stage of consolidation, can 
recover. 

The two cases that terminated fatally were cases 
of catarrhal phthisis. Although, when they came 
into this region, their lungs were extensively diseased, 
they were much benefited during their stay, and it 
seems to me that impatience and imprudence had 
very much to do with the fatal termination. 

Results show that the climate of this region is 
better adapted to the treatment of catarrhal phthisis 
than of any other variety. I believe fibrous phthisis 
does better in higher altitudes — for instance, in 
Colorado. 



DR. LOOMIS ON THE ST. REGIS COUNTRY. 135 

My experience leads me to believe that climate 
lias little beneficial effect upon tubercular phthisis. 

For some time I have believed — in fact I became 
convinced soon after I began to study carefully the 
effect of climate upon phthisical invalids — that a 
larger proportion of such were benefited or cured in 
a cold than in a warm climate. 

The testimony of those who have spent a winter, 
or more than one winter, in the Adirondacks is, that 
improvement was far more rapid during the winter 
than during the summer months ; and I have found, 
by physical examination of the lungs, that the arrest 
in the morbid processes and the establishment of the 
curative processes was more marked during the win- 
ter than during the summer months. 

I shall have accomplished my purpose, if by this 
hastily prepared paper I shall have awakened in my 
professional brethren the spirit of investigation as 
regards this extensive 'health-restoring region, within 
the boundaries of our own State, which we have been 
passing by, while we have sent phthisical invalids 
far from home and friends to regions far less re- 
storative. 



CHAPTER X. 



THE COST OF THE THING. 



In dealing with the matter of expense, as connected 
with the wilderness experiment, it has been thought 
advisable to put the information under a separate 
heading, instead of scattering it over the pages of 
this little volume. 

The cost of any undertaking of this sort will, of 
course, depend largely on the tastes and circumstances 
of the invalid. To the fortunate few whom fate has 
in some measure compensated for the loss of health 
by bestowing large fortunes upon them, this chapter 
will be of little moment. They may omit it alto- 
gether in deciding upon the trip. To that infinitely 
larger number, however, who must consult their 
purses before carrying out any plan, even where that 
plan may involve the question of life or death, the 
money item assumes no insignificant proportions. 
And for those who are called upon to bear the burden 
of actual poverty with that of wasting disease — those 
who have heretofore looked upon a journey to the 
established health-resorts as among the bitter impos- 
sibilities which poverty imposes — for those it will be 



THE COST OF THE THING. 137 

a gracious duty to point the way to this new El 
Dorado whose gold is life. 

As a convenient starting-point in the calculations 
which are to follow, we will suppose the health-seeker 
to have reached the most important gateway of the 
upper wilderness — Plattsburg. The fare from that 
town to the St. Regis Lake House by the present 
route is §4.50. Each passenger is allowed one trunk 
by the stage, and will be charged an extra $2 for 
each additional trunk. Dinner at the half-way house, 
seventy-five cents. 

The established price for board at " Paul 5; Smith's 
is $2.50 per day. Unlike any other house of its 
character of which the writer has any knowledge, no 
deduction from the per-diem rates is made on ac- 
count of a prolonged stay. The guest pays $2.50 if 
he remains a day, and at precisely the same rate if 
he remains four months. 

Guides consider their services worth $2.50 per day 
and their board. The hotel sets a separate table for 
their accommodation, at which meals are served for 
twenty-five cents each. When engaged in the work 
of guiding proper, the men fairly earn all they get. 
When employed regularly in the permanent camp 
of an invalid, it must be confessed that $17.50 a 
week, with board included, is a rate of wages for un- 
skilled labor out of all keeping with existing values. 
The men themselves understand this fact, and where 
one can be found willing to attend an invalid, he 
may generally be hired for $1 a day. In all such 
cases it is understood that the place is to be permanent 



138 THE WILDERNESS CURE. 

for tlie season, provided, of course, the man proves 
satisfactory. 

Where it is possible, it is best to hire a guide 
who owns a boat. Otherwise one may be rented 
from the hotel at fifty cents a day. When new, 
these boats cost from $40 to $75. A good second- 
hand one may often be bought in the autumn as 
low as $15. 

A good canvas tent, ten by twelve feet, can be pur- 
chased in New York for about $35. This might not 
include poles and stakes, but as it costs much more 
than their value to transport these, they are better 
left behind. A covering or fly for the tent may be 
jnade of heavy cotton cloth, which serves the purpose 
quite as well as canvas. 

For the ordinary labor required in preparing a per- 
manent camp, $1 a day, with the man's board, is a 
fair allowance. A good strong woman for kitchen 
work ought to be found for $3 a week. Boys (if 
any can be found small enough or young enough not 
to regard themselves as guides) may be employed for 
fifty cents a day. _N o other kind of labor need be 
considered, as there are no regular mechanics or 
artisans in the region. 

In the necessary furniture of a camp, a very small 
outlay will meet the requirements, if the items of 
stoves and beds be excepted. For the former, a good 
cook-stove may sometimes be hired from the year- 
round inhabitants, the user paying two or three dol- 
lars for the season. This is the most economical way. 
A tent-stove of sheet-iron costs, perhaps, $5, with 



THE COST OF THE THING. 139 

something more for the pipe. A good bed is the 
most expensive necessity of the sick man's camp. 
The hotel furnishes blankets for roughing it, bnt it 
will not be well to depend on this source for a com- 
fortable and civilized bed. Those who set out with 
an eye to economy cannot do better than bring their 
bed with them — that is, a good mattress, pillows and 
blankets, with enough of the last to meet the colder 
nights safely. 

The staple articles of food are sold, as a rule, at a 
considerable advance on the New York market prices, 
but to this statement exception must be made in the 
matter of eggs, butter, and milk. The very best of 
butter was supplied us at fifteen to twenty cents per 
pound. The highest price for eggs was twenty cents 
per dozen. Rich, creamy milk could be had for five 
cents a quart. Spring lambs can be bought for 
from $2 to $3, which reduces the price of delicious 
chops, roasts, and stews, to something under ten cents 
per pound. Beef sells at the hotel for twenty cents 
a pound — but Adirondack beef would be dear at 
twenty pounds for a cent. Yenison brings from ten 
to twelve cents a pound. Chickens are plentiful at 
twenty-five cents apiece. Trout, in their season, if 
sold at all, may be had for twelve or fifteen cents a 
pound. As a rule, however, the camper-out may 
count on all the trout he cares for without money 
and without price. Flour, meal, sugar, tea, coffee, 
canned fruits, and vegetables — all these are sold in 
the supply store at the hotel, and although the prices 
range high, the quality of the articles is superior. If 



140 THE WILDERNESS CUEE. 

the permanency of the camp is definitely fixed upon, 
it will be well to purchase stores in considerable 
quantities, thus reducing their cost, as well as the la- 
bor of conveying them to camp. In Bloomingdale 
there is an excellent supply store, where the prices 
rule considerably lower than in the hotel. To the 
proprietor of this store, Mr. Isaac Chesley, all orders 
for provisions maybe intrusted, with the certainty of 
getting what you want, and getting it on reasonable 
terms. 

By no means an unimportant item of expense to 
those who make any prolonged stay in the woods, is 
the cost attending the transportation of articles from 
the outer world. The express charges of the stage 
lines would seem preposterously high anywhere save 
in the backwoods. Even here they are much higher 
than they should be, and, what is worse, they seem 
to be fixed by no regular schedule, but wholly at the 
option of the driver. This lack of uniformity leads 
to no little annoyance. Often we found that the cost 
of an article was more than doubled by the express 
charges from Plattsburg to the hotel ; and the ab- 
surdity of paying forty cents to get a ten-cent tack- 
hammer brought in from Ausable Forks, reminds 
one of the purchasing power of Confederate money 
in 1864. The invalid who depends on friends at 
home to send him dainties and medicines must be 
interested in this matter of express charges. "Wher- 
ever practicable, it is well to use the mail for the 
transmission of small packages not excluded by the 
postal rules. 



THE COST OF THE THING. 141 

From the foregoing outline of expenses we may 
formulate some exact estimates as to the cost of 
camping-out in the Adirondacks, Let us seek first 
the minimum outlay required to make the experi- 
ment. 

The patient, we will assume, is poor — so poor that 
every dime, as well as dollar, must be counted. Sup- 
pose him to be a mechanic, with a thrifty, compe- 
tent, hard-working wife. Suppose him to have been 
told by a trustworthy physician that his one chance 
of recovery lies in giving the wilderness cure a trial ; 
that this chance is so large as to amount almost to a 
certainty, but that if he does not avail himself of it 
he must inevitably die in a short time. To such a 
man, living, we will say, in Is ew York or Boston or 
Philadelphia, Florida would be a mockery, Santa 
Barbara a dream ; but the wilderness invites him, 
offers him all the benefits which can accrue to any- 
body, and presents no exorbitant bill for working its 
marvellous cure. In the estimate that follows, it is 
assumed that the camp shall consist of a good tent 
and one bark building ; that the invalid's wife shall 
do the domestic work of the camp, as she has always 
done of the home ; that there shall be an abundance 
of wholesome food and in greater variety than the 
poor of our cities can afford ; and that, finally, all 
the essential conditions of the wilderness cure shall 
be fulfilled as perfectly as if the patient were a rich 
man. Here are the figures : 



142 T1IE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

Minimum Cost of a Gamp for Two Persons, to 
Occupied Four Months. 

Canvas tent, $25 00 

. Bark building, . . . „ 10 00 

Camp equipments, . . . 15 00 

Food and all necessary expenses, 

per week, $6, ... 102 00 



$152 00 



In tlie above, no provision is made for tlie cost of 
reaching tlie wilderness nor of tho medicines which 
may be required ; neither is there any margin for 
those delicacies which the invalid is apt to crave ; 
but, nevertheless, the estimate is sufficiently liberal 
for the making of the experiment under such condi- 
tions as have already been explained. Rather than 
not try the Adirondack cure at all, let the man with 
$150 and a good wife come along. 

Let us pass next to an estimate of the expenses 
which will be incurred by those persons who are 
neither rich nor poor — who seek to economize, but 
are not driven to the stern necessities which pinching 
poverty demands. Here the comforts of camp life 
will be considerably increased, and not a few luxuries 
may be counted upon. The camp itself may include 
a first class tent and three or four bark buildings ; it 
can employ the steady services of a competent man, 
who will provide his own boat and attend to all the 
ordinary labor ; it can furnish a table iruod enough 



THE COST OF THE THING. 143 

for anybody ; and, in short, it can be made home-like 
and attractive, as an invalid's camp should be. The 
figures will, I think, in every instance, be found large 
enough to allow of some little surplus, and the totai 
Avill be more apt to fall below the estimate than to 
rise above it. The schedule stands thus : 



Medium Cost of a Camp for Two Persons, with 


Guide, for Four 


Months. 






Canvas tent, . 




$40 


00 


Building camp, . 


. 


50 


00 


Equipments, 




50 


00 


Food and all necessary 


expenses, 






per week, $9, 




153 


00 


Guide for season, . 




125 


00 



$418 00 

It should be remembered that in fitting up a camp 
in the manner supposed in the table above, the 
health-seeker will have not a little to show at the end 
of the season in the line of equipments. If he de- 
cides to remain through a second or third summer, 
comparatively little money will need to be added to 
the original outlay. On the other hand, if he is able 
to go out of the woods at the end of his first season, 
he can easily dispose of all his camp adjuncts at a 
fair price. 

Although anything like a precise calculation of the 
amount of money which might be spent in this wil- 
derness experiment would be as impossible to make 



144 THE WILDERNESS CUBE. 

as it would to determine the sum Sinbad might 
have spent in those years which intervened between 
his rash demand for the roc's egg and his happy 
death, nevertheless, an approximation to the possible 
extravagance of life in the woods may properly be 
added. And here it is : 



Maximum Cost of a Camp for Two Persons, and 
Guides, for Four Months. 

Canvas tents, . . . . $100 00 
Building camp, . . . 250 00 

Equipments, .... 250 00 
"Wages, live men and one woman 

(all "guides"), . . . 1,200 00 
Running expenses, . * . . 500 00 



62,300 00 



Here, of course, the "maximum" is that of the 
probable, not by any means of the possible. The 
Count of Monte Christo might fashion his tent of 
camel's-hair, and floor his bark cabins with the cedar 
of Lebanon. Pie might spend as much money in the 
woods as in Paris ; but he would not recover his 
health any the quicker for that. The maximum esti- 
mate presumes extravagance, but it does not exceed 
the actual outlay which has been made by campers- 
out in the Adirondacks. 

So much for the cost of one part of the wilderness 
experiment. For the other — the winter residence — 
it may easily be shown that the cost of living is con- 



THE COST OF THE THING. 145 

siderably less than at the long-established health re- 
sorts ; while to the person willing to economize, it is 
a simple matter to materially reduce the amount 
usually expended by health-seekers. 

In Saranac Lake, superior accommodation may 
be had for $20 a week for two persons. The smaller 
houses fix their prices at from $14 to $16 per wee'k 
for two. In Bloomingdale, fair board can be ob- 
tained anywhere from $12 to $20 per week, while in 
the farm-houses scattered over the country, the win- 
ter sojourner may find a home for the price — little 
or much — he is able to pay. His own experience in 
this matter was so pleasant, that it may naturally 
prejudice the writer in favor of farm-house board ; 
but others, less fortunate in the selection of a place, 
might find it wearisome. 

But the winter may be passed in the woods at a 
much smaller outlay than boarding in any way ne- 
cessitates. Let us take up our mechanic again, who, 
with the coming of the keen November days, finds 
the promise of recovery already half -fulfilled. What- 
ever sacrifice a continued stay may call for, he must 
not think of leaving the woods now. All his prog- 
ress will come to naught if he refuses to give nature 
'time to work out her miracles in her own way. Six 
or seven months longer and he may go back with a 
twenty years' lease of life. It is worth some pinch- 
ing to get a grip on a lease of that sort. So the man 
who is absolutely poor puts the thoughts of board 
out of his mind, rents a small house a mile perhaps 
from his camp, furnishes it with the equipments of 
7 



146 THE WILDERNESS CUKE. 

the latter, and such additional articles as he can make 
with his own hands, and is prepared to brave the 
winter in comfort and independence. A house with 
enough room to decently accommodate two, or even 
four persons, can be rented for $2 a month. It is a 
backwoods house to be sure, most likely of logs, but 
still inhabitable — a palace to the tenement prisons of 
New York. It is lacking all modern nuisances. The 
atmosphere within it may be kept almost as pure and 
fresh as that outside. An abundance of wood for 
fuel to keep two stoves roaring through the cold sea- 
son can be bought for $10, or for something less than 
a dollar a cord. Here, then, are the two important 
items of shelter and fuel provided for at a total out- 
lay of $24 for the full seven months. In the matter 
of food, a plain, nourishing, abundant diet can be 
furnished for two persons at an expense of $4 a week. 
This would allow of good bread and butter, mutton, 
beef, sausages, ham, fish, potatoes, beans, peas, tur- 
nips, cabbages, milk, all in generous quantities, and 
with now and then some dainty from the outer- world 
market. Allow twenty-five cents a week for light, 
another twenty -five for a good daily newspaper, and 
fifty for the heathen — or tobacco. This gives us a 
total, w T ith the house-rent and fuel, of something over 
$6 a week for all ordinary household expenditures ! 

Where, the country over, can the mechanic and 
his wife live for less than that ? 

If it shall seem to the general reader that this 
matter of cost has been entered into with too great 
minuteness of detail, let it charitably be remembered 



THE COST OF THE THING. 147 

that in a large number of cases it is the question 
which must determine the invalid's course. We 
should not all be rich, even if the bricks which pave 
Boston were turned suddenly to gold. There would 
be plenty of bricks, but we could not all get to Bos- 
ton. So when Hope points the way to the weary 
victim of wasting disease, but points always and only 
to those distant heights he can never mount, what 
a solace is it to know that others more lucky have 
found the treasure he coveted, but could not seek ? 
Here, in the vast wilderness, that treasure may be 
searched for anew. And this little book will have 
fulfilled its modest mission if it carries aught of aid, 
or cheer, or comfort to the sick. 



APPENDIX. 



Although nearly everything necessary for the 
building and equipping of a camp has been men- 
tioned in the preceding pages, it may, nevertheless, 
be a convenience to the reader if the essential ar- 
ticles are grouped together under a single heading. 
First, then, for the 

Necessities. 

1 cook-stove. 

1 tent-stove, with at least four lengths of pipe. 

1 tea-kettle. 

1 iron pot, for boiling. 

1 broiler, for meat. 

1 baking-pan. 

1 frying-pan. 

1 coffee-pot. 

Heavy stone-ware crockery, number of pieces to be 
determined by number of persons. 

6 tin pails, from two to sixteen quarts in size. 

Knives and forks, spoons, and carving-knife and 
fork. 



150 APPENDIX. 

6 tin cnps. 

6 tin bread-pans of different sizes. 

2 market-baskets. 

4 candlesticks. 

1 lantern. 

1 hatchet. 

1 axe f 

1 hammer. 

1 hand-saw. 

"With regard to the provisions and stores, the 
amount to be expended will, as has already been in- 
timated, depend largely upon the taste and means of 
the camper-ont. The subjoined tables may serve to 
convey an approximate idea of what will be needed. 

A Minimum Estimate. 

Flour, 1 bag. 

Sugar, 20 pounds. 

Yeast, or yeast cakes. 

Baking-powder. 

Salt, pepper, etc. 

Potatoes. 

Salt pork. 

Tea and coffee. 

Indian-meal. 

Beans. 

Candles — kerosene, or both. 

Matches — a goodly supply. 

Crackers. 



APPENDIX. 151 

To the above list, if one cares to give himself a 
little larger variety of food and some additional com- 
forts, may be added the following, which we will call 

A Moderate Estimate. 
All that is contained nnder the minimum estimate. 
1 dozen canned tomatoes. 
1 dozen canned corn. 
1 dozen canned fruit to suit the taste. 
Ham. 

1 dozen chickens (to be bought alive and kept in 
camp). 

•| dozen boxes sardines. 
Pressed corn-beef. 
Cheese. 
Dried beef. 
Lager-beer.* 

To those who may desire a still more varied menu, 
here is a list which may be helpful in making out 
the schedule of stores. 

A Luxurious Estimate. 
All that is contained under the preceding heads. 
Canned lobster, salmon, shrimps, etc. 
Clam-chowder, pickled oysters, chow-chow, etc. 



* So many consumptive patients take lager-beer regularly, 
under advice of their physicians, that it is regarded almost a ne- 
cessity in their diet. The writer found it a great saving to buy 
his lager by the keg in Plattsburg and bottle it in camp. It kept 
excellently buried in the sand. Empty bottles can be had at the 
hotel. 



152 APPENDIX. 

Canned soups, turtle, chicken, beef, etc. 

Potted meats. 

Canned fruits and vegetables to suit taste. 

Olives, pickles and relishes to taste. 

Wine. 

With regard to milk, butter, and eggs, these, as 
has been heretofore suggested, may best be procured 
of the nearest farmer. 

As to the quantity of provisions to be taken into 
camp, the invalid must, of course, use his own dis- 
cretion. If there be but two in the party with the 
guide, enough of the staple articles to last a fort- 
night will do to begin with. After a little experience 
it may be advantageous to buy on a larger scale. 

I have already sought to point out what is and 
what is not necessary in the way of wearing apparel. 
All advice on this may be epitomized in a single 
sentence : — Take as little as you can consistent with 
comfort, and let that little be all available. Plenty 
of woollen and flannel, either for man or woman, is 
the golden rule. 

The reader has fully discovered that this little vol- 
ume is not a sportsman's book ; but as many a 
patient may be strong enough to amuse himself with 
gun and rod, I append the following 

Sporting Outfit. 
One rifle (a shotgun is of no use, except for par-, 
tridge-hunting, and a rifle answers equally well even 
for that). 



APPENDIX. 153 

Ammunition, a moderate supply. You can refill 
your cartridge-box any time at the hotel. 

One fly-rod. If you choose you can buy it in the 
wilderness ; or, if you are a beginner, you may save ' 
some considerable loss by learning to cast a fly with 
a tamarack pole, which can be cut anywhere. i 

One landing-net. 

An assortment of flies. 

"With regard to these last, I cannot do better than 
quote the advice of the Rev. Mr. Murray, who ought 
to be an authority on trout-fishing. . He says : " Take 
of hackles six each, of black, red, and brown. Let 
the flies be made on hooks from Eos. 3 to 1, Lim- 
erick size. In addition to the hackles, take six Can- 
ada flies, six green drakes, six red ibis, six small sal- 
mon flies, and, if in the fall of the year, six English 
bluejay and six gray drake." 

The cost of the above fishing outfit ought not to 
exceed $25. 



